


Something New

by manboobs



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Derek Hale is Bad at Feelings, Everyone Is Gay, F/F, M/M, McCall-Hale Family Feels, Minor Allison Argent/Scott McCall, Panic Attacks, Past Kate Argent/Derek Hale, Wedding Fluff, and a bit of angst, except Scott
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-19
Updated: 2017-03-07
Packaged: 2018-09-18 15:48:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 25,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9392192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manboobs/pseuds/manboobs
Summary: Every moment can be measured in heartbeats. His moms get to the arch. Talia turns toward him and smiles, squeezes his hand. He feels his heart thud in his chest. In her vows, Melissa tells Talia that she fell in love with her and her whole family, that what they built together is everything. Cora is grinding her teeth hard so she won’t cry. Scott is openly weeping on the other side. Derek hears the blood rush in his ears, so loud he can't hear his mom say “I do”. Talia dips Melissa in a Hollywood kiss, the crowd cheers. Laura is hugging Derek and muting her sniffles in his neck. He can see his own pulse in his wrist. Stiles catches his eye from the audience, sitting right next to his dad, and smiles. His heart stops for precisely two beats.(or The One With Talia and Melissa's Wedding, where feels go all over the place because of reasons).





	1. Something Old

**Author's Note:**

  * For [margewearspants](https://archiveofourown.org/users/margewearspants/gifts).



> !!! This fic is very Scott-centric for reasons unknown to me, so steer clear if you don't like that sweet potatohead.
> 
> A fuckload of thanks to my amazing beta (in more ways than one) @margewearspants. You are the MVP of the team. Which team? I don't know just pick one.

 

"Some people feel like they don’t deserve love. They walk away quietly into empty spaces, trying to close the gaps of the past."

\- Jon Krakauer, _Into The Wild_

 

 

**May 2013**

Derek’s at a rest stop just outside Beacon Hills, staring at his phone as it’s dialing Laura’s number. Her unimpressed face is staring back at him, wrapped in a scarf and nose red from the wind. The picture’s from their trip to New York last Christmas, Central Park in the background. He shifts around, the Camaro’s seat creaking beneath him. He’s tired and restless at the same time, a buzz settled somewhere in his neck. The call goes to voicemail.

He gets out of the car, walks around a bit on the parking lot, turning his head this way and that to loosen the tense muscles in his neck, let the buzz loose. He lets himself breathe, enjoy the stillness of the afternoon on this deserted piece of highway. He likes driving fast and uninterrupted, but the drive from Portland alone in one go is a bit too much, even for him.

He’ll be home in twenty minutes or so, if only Laura would answer her goddam phone.

Derek longs for it, almost desperately. But he isn’t looking forward to the barely controlled chaos he knows he’ll find there. He’s already waited till the last possible minute to come home, citing papers to hand in and finals to take. Laura came home about a week ago, leaving him alone to “study” (brood. He’s been brooding. Alone. Shamefully brooding. Laura likes to tell people it is what he’s majoring in).

The more he thinks about home, the more he misses it. Hearing Cora get up at dawn for a run through the preserve, as she puts the coffee on for everyone else before jogging through the kitchen door. Leaning on the kitchen counter, eyes barely open, feeling his mom ruffle his hair as she makes her sleepy, silent way to the coffee pot. Laura finally getting off his back to tease the rest of their family.

He loves their old, creaky house and the trees surrounding it on all sides. He loves that he can climb one of them from the window of his bedroom up to the roof to watch the stars. Derek and his brother used to do that a lot the summer before he left for college.

And he’s happy for his mom, he truly is. But he isn’t entirely prepared for everything. He’s always uncomfortable with the intense scrutiny his family puts him under when he’s been away for a while. They’re an overbearing bunch. And knowing the whole town will be involved in their life this week? The buzzing in Derek’s neck intensifies.

He tries Laura again.

“Der-Der. Still on the road?”

“Don’t call me that.” Buzz buzz buzz. Derek breathes through his nose, once, twice. “I’m almost there, just took a break. How’s everything?”

Laura takes a few seconds to answer, as if surveying the carnage to give a proper body count. “It’s okay. Strangely quiet. Mom hasn’t started freaking out yet. She’s just a bit snappy. Cora, though. She’s been biting everyone’s head off. I mean, more than usual. Which is, well, impressive. Maybe she spent too much time with you at an impressionable age?”

“Har har. Maybe she can’t stand your stupid jokes, ever thought of that?”

“Yeah yeah, whatever little bro. Just get here already. _The coast is clear_ ”, she fake-whispers like a total ass.

Derek rolls his eyes with his whole body. He knows from experience she can hear him through the phone. “Thanks for that. You suck.”

Laura laughs out loud, hollers back “you suck!” and hangs up.

Derek can’t help his mouth ticking up as he makes his way back to his car. His sister’s the worst. Or the best. Possibly both.

As the engine roars to life (and he can hear Laura going “vroom” in his head like she used to do when she first bought the damn car), Derek notices the buzz is gone. He makes it home in fifteen minutes.

::

Derek parks behind Cora’s pickup truck and gets tackled to the leafy, mushy ground before he even has both feet out of the Camaro. He wrestles his attacker down, snarling, all fangs out but then Scott starts laughing and tries to put his finger up Derek’s nose. Derek doesn’t release his hold until Scott’s crying for mercy around a mouthful of dirt. Derek can't contain a slightly feral, victorious grin as he stands up and pulls Scott with him, wheezing with laughter. Scott dusts himself and pulls Derek into a hug, grinning like a loon.

The hug is too forceful to be comfortable but Derek welcomes it. “Welcome home, bro. We’ve been waiting.”

“Thanks. Sorry for that, I’ve been pretty busy. You’ll understand when you’re older”, he adds with a smirk, patting Scott’s shoulder.

Scott punches him lightly in the ribs and loops an arm around his shoulders, dragging him along towards the house.

“Whatever. If you think we didn’t save some of the work for you, you’re completely wrong. Laura put you in charge of the gift bags, ah!”

Derek’s only half listening. His mom is standing on the porch watching them, leaning against the railing, eyes intent on Derek. The green of her eyes has the slightest hint of red when she reaches for him and squeezes his neck as he climbs up the stairs, Scott bouncing ahead into the house.

Once in his mother’s embrace, the sense of home, of rightness, of pack fills him up. He can’t help but flash his eyes at his mom when he pulls back from the hug, showing submission like a pup, earning a fond smile from his mother.

“It’s really good to see you, Derek. How was the drive?” Talia asks as she leads the way into the house, not letting go of Derek’s arm yet.

“It was fine. A bit too long, but ok. How are you, Mom? How’s Mel?”

“We’re fine, honey. She’s finishing up her shift; she’ll be back for dinner. Go on, get settled in your room, and then come help fix dinner.” She squeezes his arm one last time and lets him go at the foot of the stairs.

Derek is a grown-ass man. He’s twenty-four, he has his own apartment, does his own dishes and buys his own beer (and has his own stash of wolfsbane to make the beer interesting). But when he’s in this house, he feels like the sullen sixteen year old who hadn’t fully grown into his ears yet. He puzzles over that as he climbs the stairs up to his room. He barely has a second to brace himself before Cora comes crashing into him with a roar and they go tumbling down. He hears Laura cackling from upstairs as the bones in his arm knit back together, lying sprawled on the hallway floor. He’s home.

::

Talia and Melissa met, unsurprisingly, at a support group for single parents. Melissa had been dealing with her husband abandoning her and her son to pursue a promising career in alcoholism and law enforcement. Talia had been looking for guidance on how to handle an increasingly unmanageable Cora, whose little toddler brain did not seem to comprehend the permanent state of her daddy's passing away.

With young children of the same age and a similar inability to tolerate bullshit, Melissa and Talia had rapidly bonded. Being both attracted to sharp minds and take-no-shit attitudes, they rapidly became more than friends. Scott and Melissa were a package deal, but it was one that Talia was happy to take on. Scott quickly became something of a permanent fixture in the Hale house, always over for playdates and sleepovers when Melissa had a night shift.

Four year old (and a HALF!) Scott had the sunny, simple disposition that meant he never met a stranger. Until he met Cora Hale. For the first year of knowing each other, Cora and Scott did _not_ get along. Or more accurately, Scott followed Cora around trying to make her like him with many a gift of drawings (pink blurbs) and flowers (dried leaves) and half melted chocolate snacks he stored in his pants pockets. The more he tried, the more violently he got rejected.

Fortunately for Scott, Cora Hale had older siblings who took him in like it was their job to raise him. Laura, who was the Big Kid and took that job even more seriously now that her daddy was gone, explained to her little brother Derek that Scott had lost his daddy too and now he needed someone to help take care of him, and that had been It. Of course, for Laura, taking care of a four (and a HALF!) year old meant letting him play with her and sharing her snacks. Offering hugs when he would get sad, sometimes. For Derek, “taking care” meant following Scott everywhere and hovering in the shadows (“like Batman”, said Derek. “Like a creep”, said Laura, who was ten and so much more worldly than her puny eight year old little brother). Little Derek didn’t really know how giving hugs worked, so he would just pick Scott up and carry him around without asking for his opinion, or order him around to show him how Big Kids did it. That would amuse ten year old Laura to no end. How would an eight year old know anything about being a big kid?

Scott doesn't remember a time without Derek ordering him around and Laura's hugs. He does remember sharing Cora's bedroom for about ten minutes until she kicked him out in a hissy fit. A few days later Talia had the guest bedroom arranged so it could be Scott's room. Eight months later, Melissa moved all her stuff into Talia's bedroom.

Eventually, Cora got used to having Scott around. There was no big breakthrough: one day she was ignoring everyone and hiding under her bed, the next she was telling Derek "that's not how you do it" and pushing him out of the way so she could show Scott how you properly walk on your hands. A few days, later she wasn't hungry so she shared her apple slices with Scott. One night she had a nightmare and the bedroom closest was Scott's so she snuggled with him instead of mom or Laura. It was never addressed, so Scott had no idea why exactly he was suddenly the happiest kid ever. But that worked for him.

There was no big werewolf reveal either. A few days after their first official date, Talia and Melissa sat Scott and the Hale kids down in the living room and Talia changed in front of Scott. Scott hadn't been scared because his mommy was holding his hand and she looked happy. And Laura was holding his other hand and she looked determined. And Derek was hovering somewhere behind him but Scott was still young enough that he liked the hovering.

The McCall-Hales became a family. It was easy as breathing and not easy at all. When Laura entered middle school, she stopped talking to Melissa for a while. When Talia had a stern discussion with her about it, Laura exploded into tears, saying Melissa would never replace her dad and she would never ever talk to her ever again. Ever.

Rafael refused to sign the divorce papers for years. Then he accepted, but wanted custody of Scott. Melissa was _exhausted_. So she hired to most ruthless lawyer she knew (which happened to be Talia) and kicked his ass all over court.

Cora only dealt with her seemingly unending grief through aggression, which never stopped being an object of concern for Talia. Then in middle school Cora discovered soccer. And lacrosse. And baseball. The coaches looked at Cora with a mix of respect and horror. The Hale house suffered much less property destruction.

Scott was a happy kid by nature. He had lost a dad but almost immediately gained two sisters, a brother and a mom. Then three years later he gained a best friend and subsequently, more hours in detention than anyone could ever imagine.

::

Dinner was, as usual, a loud, busy affair. Derek had a similarly rowdy reunion with Laura (“You saw me a week ago, Laur’, get off me already!” Derek had whined – uh, protested – from the floor where Laura had him pinned with his newly-healed arm twisted behind his back. She’d cackled loudly and leaped off only when his mom had called for her to leave her brother alone.) and shared a long, homey hug with a weary Mel, back from the hospital. He helped Scott peel potatoes while his brother shared stories of puppies he’d saved from near death during his internship, to his mom’s quiet delight and Cora’s apparent boredom. They piled plates of food on the table and shared a million stories, all talking over each other, Mel even coaxing a smile out of Cora with a particularly bloody anecdote from the hospital.

Laura is currently complaining about the interns at the gallery who came way too close to breaking an extremely valuable cedar frame, a story Derek’s heard a thousand times at this point. Everyone’s finishing up on their second plateful when a familiar roaring noise from down the road gets Derek’s – and Scott’s attention.

Scott’s off like a shot toward the front door with a gleeful cry of “Stiles!” and Derek has difficulty swallowing his last mouthful. Laura shoots him a look, but mercifully goes on telling her story.

When a shout and a booming laugh get to them from the entryway, Laura cuts herself off and springs to her feet, her chair rattling behind her. She half runs, following the warm, enticing laugh, Cora immediately on her heels. Derek, Melissa and Talia share a long-suffering look, but then his moms begrudgingly get up to greet Stiles. It seems no one in the Hale-McCall family is able to resist the Stilinski kid. Derek follows at a more sedate pace (as slowly as he physically can). Can’t help but speed up a little when Stiles’ warm, earthy scent hits him. Oh god, this is embarrassing.

Stiles is hugging Laura and laughing with his face buried in her hair and Derek wishes he would just. Stop. He looks broader in his shoulders and his jaw and he grew out his hair. He's got way too much gel in it but it's kind of endearing and Derek wants to gag a little bit at how awfully fond his thoughts are.

Stiles disentangles his long limbs from Laura's evil clutches after a few seconds and withstands Cora’s vicious shoulder punch as he makes eye contact with Derek. Derek frowns, so he won't blush. The back of his ears feel hot anyway. Stiles' smile widens.

“Hey Derek. Old habits die hard, I see.”

“What.”

Wow, great job, moron. First time you talk to him in two years and you manage one lonely syllable. He will definitely see how charming you are now. Derek tells his thoughts to shut up.

Stiles' smile gets impossibly wider. "No, I meant, with the hovering? You used to do that a lot. When we were kids I mean."

Derek has no idea what to say to that. He frowns some more.

"Anyway. Good to see you, big guy." And then Stiles is clapping his shoulder and moving toward Melissa to sweep her in a hug.

Derek dismissed. And frozen in place because big warm hands stubble biceps strong legs big eyes and it’s _embarrassing_ to be his age and have a debilitating crush on his little brother's best friend. He's a grown man! He's been living on his own for years! He's mature! Shut up Laura nobody asked you.


	2. Something Borrowed

**Summer 2011**

Laura shouts in his ear and Derek wakes up with a start. People around them are already pulling their luggage from the overhead compartments, looking rumpled and grumpy from being trapped in a flying metal cage for too long. Derek blinks slowly, getting his bearings while Laura snickers next to him, shoving her iPad in her bag.

They're home. Well, they're closer to home than they've been in a year and a half. Their mom is waiting for them somewhere in the airport, Cora might have even tagged along. Derek hasn't seen them since Christmas freshman year. He'd been scared to come home, but Laura had pushed and pulled until he’d yelled "fine!" and started packing.

Laura thumps his shoulder with her purse, bringing him back to the crowded, slowly emptying aircraft. He gathers his stuff, wipes the sleep crust off his eyes and lets Laura lead the way out. A few minutes later he's basking in the comfort of his mom's embrace, and it’s only Cora kicking the inside of his knee (which is "I missed you" in Cora-speak) that makes him let go.

Laura, Cora and their mom “catch up” – talk over each other as loudly as they can – in the car while Derek leans back and watches Beacon Hills sprout from the all-encompassing NorCal forest. He expected it to feel more foreign than it actually does, coming home. Everything is familiar, comforting like a beloved, worn sweater. Despite his best efforts, Derek still does belong here.

He half-expects half-dreads a big ‘welcome home’ party, but he gets a simple dinner with his family. Scott is notably absent, off at the end of the year party thrown by the legendary Lydia Martin. Melissa had reluctantly allowed him to go, worn down by the sheer volume of the increasingly whiny "but mooooooooom!"s that followed her around for days on end until she relented. Dinner is somewhat quieter than usual. Everyone pointedly avoids mentioning _her_ or Derek's long absence from home. He's grateful. He wants to hide under the table. And smash his fist against it and yell at them to stop treating him like fucking porcelain. He blinks and blinks and keeps quiet. He's really tired.

His mom's hand is somehow always on him, stroking his hair, squeezing his neck, patting his back. It's more than motherly intuition though, and it's more than Alpha instincts too. She's making him theirs again, seeping the scent of their family, of their pack, into his skin all over again. He feels grounded, anchored. He feels overwhelmed.

He longed for this fiercely, but it's too much after a year and a half of self-imposed loneliness and he can't. He needs to. His skin is buzzing and his ears itch and he just. His mom squeezes his arm, shoots him a look, a slight nod. He mouths his thanks at her and stands up quietly, goes up to his room and crawls under his bed. It's dusty, there's a few moldy old socks attacking his delicate nose, but the dark and the muffled sounds of home help. He feels his body relax, from his neck to his toes, and he lets his eyes fall closed. He's home, he's safe and tomorrow. Tomorrow will be better.

::

He wakes up the next day, still under his bed, boxed in against the wall by a sleeping Scott. He smells _foul_ , like stale beer and bitter wolfsbane and teenage sweat and other people’s puke. His snores sound like tiny, annoyed growls and he’s loud and solid next to Derek. As Derek shifts to look at him more closely, he notices the mattress dipping above him and the faint scent of teenage boy. A pitter patter of a heartbeat punctuates sleepy, mumbled nonsense which means. Stiles Stilinski is probably sleeping. In his bed. Above him. The obnoxious little _shit_.

Derek bends his knee as far as the tight space allows, and delivers a swift kick to the mattress above, that’s almost immediately accompanied by a very satisfying yelp and crash. Before the spluttering can even attain levels of intelligible, Derek has turned over, tucked his face into his brother's shoulder and gone back to sleep.

::

**May 2013**

Derek is tying red silk ribbon in neat little bows around delicate lace pouches containing sugared almonds. Laura made fun of him for how seriously he is taking his task but if this is his only contribution to his mother’s wedding, he is going to do it right. He’d offered his services as DJ, but his siblings had laughed in his face for about twenty minutes. He finishes up with one pouch, attaches a tiny thank you card to the bow, and sets it down on a red platter with the other ones he’s finished so far. Six done, fifty or so to go. Yay.

The house is quiet, empty for the first time since Derek got here. Laura and his mom are off to a last-minute meeting with the caterer, Melissa is at the hospital for her last shift before she starts her leave and Scott, Stiles and Cora are playing lacrosse in the backyard. As if on cue, Derek hears a big thumping sound and Cora crowing with glee, which means she just did something violent. Stiles groans and calls foul as Cora snorts and Scott fusses over his best friend.

Stiles dismisses Scott’s worries with a “fine, dude”. A few seconds later he enters the kitchen, limping slightly, and gets himself a glass of water. Derek stares at his hands. He’s supposed to be doing something with them, possibly wedding related. In the quiet, Stiles’ footsteps are loud even to human ears. Derek can feel him hovering at the edge of his line of vision, reminds himself to breathe.

“Need some help?”

Derek absolutely does _not_ jump at the sound of his voice so close. He is a werewolf, he’s been tracking Stiles’ progress through the house. He was _not_ caught off guard by how deep and smooth Stiles’ voice is. That is his story and he’s sticking to it. He clears his throat to try and regain his composure. “Thought you were playing lacrosse…”

Stiles snorts. “Yeah, no. I should have remembered this from high school, I know, but your sister is a savage. And I like my limbs where they are, thank you very much.”

He sits down facing Derek, a sea of red silk and white lace between them, the smell of almonds almost enough to cover the scent of Stiles’ sweat and soreness.

“You can’t handle being tackled to the ground by a girl?” Derek asks, eyes fixed on the knot he’s tying. He knows it’s a bad idea, teasing Stiles. He knows he never comes out on top of those situations. But he can’t help himself. When Stiles talks to him, he loses control, can’t help pushing back and exchanging barb for barb until Stiles is flushed and breathing hard and Derek is wondering what the hell just happened.

“Oh, I can handle that just fine, dude. I just can’t handle being used as prey by a bloodthirsty werewolf”, Stiles retorts, playing with a piece of string. As if to emphasize Stiles’ words, a yelp resonates from the backyard followed by a snarl. Scott yells “hey!” and Cora’s laugh booms through the trees. Derek hears more than he sees Stiles waggling his eyebrows at him.

He huffs. “You should know by now, never play against Cora. It’s a Hale family rule.”

Stiles smirks. Derek messes up his bow. “Yeah... So, you want my help or not?”

Derek unties his messed up bow, starts again. “Not sure it’s a good idea. This is a pretty delicate job. Think you can handle it?”

Stiles scoffs. Derek finally lets his eyes wander up to his. Stiles waggles his fingers in his face. His long, slender fingers. God, what kind of new nightmare is this?

“These babies can be more delicate and precise than your gross, hairy fingers could ever hope to be, I’ll have you know. My babcia taught me needlepoint when I was eight, dude, and I was… only slightly mediocre”, he adds with a tiny, self-deprecating smile.

Derek is tongue tied, transfixed by Stiles and lips and fingers. He starts out of it when Stiles send him a questioning look, after too many seconds of awkward eye contact.

“Well then, just… grab a pouch, this type of ribbon – you see? – and get to work.”

They work in companionable silence for a while, Derek’s eyes fixed on his own work, hands only slightly trembling. When did he get so clueless? This is the same kid that used to drive him insane with his inane pranks when they were little. This is the gangly fifteen year old who helped Scott hang a “good riddance” banner on the front porch of the house the day Derek left for college. Little Stiles used to drag his plush giraffe everywhere and take naps in the most incongruous places: the bathtub, behind the living room curtains, the kitchen counters, Cora’s room, under Derek’s desk, …

Derek has a vivid memory of twelve year old Stiles and Scott on the bleachers at one of his basketball games holding up a sign that read “go bunny go!” in bright orange and blue glitter paint. He remembers running into them at a diner while on an ice cream date with Paige and pretending he had never seen them in his entire life, despite the fact that Paige had met his entire family only a week prior. The fact that he gets butterflies from being within ten feet of Stiles is certifiably insane. Derek is bonkers. He should be locked up.

Stiles, as usual, breaks the silence. “So, how’s college? I hear you’re graduating. Congrats, dude.”

Derek’s academic career hasn’t been what he’d hoped it’d be. But none of his hopes and dreams had accounted for Kate and failing most of his classes in the spring semester of his freshman year. He had stayed in Portland that summer to make up as many of the credits as he could, and picked up classes here and there, so he’d be allowed to graduate in a few weeks with his peers. Derek breathes a quiet sigh of relief at the thought of grad school waiting for him in the fall.

Derek chucks a finished pouch on the platter with a bit too much force. “Thanks. I think. How’s Berkeley? Dropped out yet?”

Stiles lets out a chortle. “Dude, no. College is awesome. Scott and I thought we might pledge at the start of the year, but classes started kicking our butts, so. Who knew there was so much studying happening in college? I thought it was all beer pong and expanding your sexual horizons. Turns out I was really fucking wrong.”

Derek tries really hard to ignore the “sexual horizons” comment. “Decided on a major yet?”

“Aw, it’s almost like you _care_.” Derek lets the sting of that wash over him while he makes sure his bow is balanced perfectly. Stiles interprets his silence as hurt. He’s not wrong. “Sorry dude, force of habit. I’m not used to us being… civil with each other.”

Derek looks up then. “Civil?” he repeats, not sure he understands.

“Yeah, you know, with all the bickering and the threats. You were pretty mean to us, when we were kids. But I guess, for the wedding… it makes sense that we would play happy family.”

Derek’s eyes are wide. “I was mean to you?”

“Well, yeah. You would ignore us all the time, and never play with us, and pretend we didn’t exist when you were with your friends. Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t _hurt_ by it or anything, it’s just. It sucked, dude. I just wanted to be your friend."

Derek doesn’t know how they got from small talk about college to the openness and underlying hurt across Stiles’ features, the way he looks at Derek like he has all the answers, almost vulnerable. Derek can’t look away from him.

He’s saved from answering by Cora and Scott crashing through the back door, bickering loudly about who scored the last goal. It seems to bring Stiles back to reality, sitting up in his chair and frowning down at the little square of lace in his hands. Derek is frozen in place, still looking at Stiles. Right before Scott and Cora enter the room, he leans toward Stiles and asks in a low voice: “Do you mean… you thought I was the cool older brother and you… wanted to hang out with me?”

Stiles lets out a chuckle and just like that, he’s his old self again. He shrugs, answers Derek with a smirk. “Derek, I can assure you, I never thought you were _cool_.” Derek hears the slight blip in his heartbeat but doesn’t comment on it. He smiles back at Stiles, trying not to notice the twinkle in his eyes or how fond he looks. Scott jumps on the back of Stiles’ chair, puts him in a headlock. Stiles squawks a garbled protest of “dude! My bow!” and they scuffle for a moment.

Derek has to actively work at containing the smile spreading across his face, like a total loser. He bitchfaces at his bow, counts to ten in his head. Scott speaks up then. “Whoa dude! There’s this many left to do? How come?”

Derek frowns harder at the bow he’s painstakingly making. Scott can eat his shorts. Stiles snorts. “You waited until the last possible second, hoping Laura would do it for you, didn’t you?”

Busted. He puzzles on how Stiles has him so easily figured out, wonders if he’s that obvious. He wonders if he’s that obvious about… other things, too. He hides his panic under what he’s sure is a truly impressive scowl, even by Hale standards. When the stretching silence threatens to become unavoidably awkward, he looks up. Scott is staring at Derek from across the table like he’s spouting two heads.

Stiles elbows Scott, points at Derek. “No no wait, I know this! That’s eyebrow speak for “Yes you are right. Now shut up or I’ll rip your throat out. With my teeth.” Trust me dude, I’m fluent.”

Derek tries really hard to keep his face blank, his eyebrows immobile. He feels himself fail epically. Scott and Stiles start laughing uncontrollably. Damn it. Scott springs away from them, yells “hot pocket time!” and Stiles gives chase, disappearing toward the kitchen.

Cora falls into the chair next to Derek’s, splays her legs wide and looks at him tie pouch after pouch while nursing a beer. She kicks his shin under the table. Derek messes up yet another knot. He stares at her, annoyed.

“Your face is weird”, Cora says, taking a gulp of her nearly empty beer.

“ _Your_ face is weird”, Derek answers, with all the maturity and dignity that befits a young man of his stature.

Cora grunts, stands up and starts walking away. When she passes him, she shoves his head forward. “Stop smiling, man. Freaks me out.”

::

Stiles and Scott met in elementary school. During recess one morning, Stiles Stilinski kicked Jackson Whittemore in the knee for calling Scott McCall a doodyhead. Scott, who took aggression as a gesture of affection because hello, his siblings were Cora and Derek, decided he would be Stiles' Best Friend Forever.

Scott took Stiles in like he took all strays in. But Stiles wasn't a cute little squirrel or a bird fallen from the nest. Stiles was a loud little shit who asked too many questions, never stopped moving and nagged people incessantly. Derek could not understand why everyone in his house seemed charmed by the kid. He was the worst.

Sadly for Derek, weekly sleepovers were instituted about a month after the ‘doodyhead incident’. From then on Stiles Stilinski set his hooks into the Hale-McCall family and never let go, seeping into every part of their life, even the super special secret parts he should never ever know about what were you thinking Scott goddamnit. He became a constant in the Hales' life and Derek could never quite shake him. And believe him, for those first few years, he tried.

When they were about nine years old, Stiles fell from a tree in the Hale house backyard (which is pretty much the entire Preserve) and broke his arm. He followed Derek around everywhere for a week demanding he sign his lime green cast. Derek just couldn’t be seen signing a nine year old’s cast, ok? He was in middle school now, and he had enough to worry about already with the mean girls in his class laughing at his teeth all the time. What was wrong with his teeth, he complained – whined – to his mom one day after school. Stiles, slumped on the living room couch watching cartoons with Scott, overheard and drew a giant bunny that took over his whole cast. He named it Derek. Scott and Stiles laughed about it for weeks, even after Stiles’ cast had come off.

That kid was the bane of Derek’s existence and he really, really regretted asking Laura to teach him to take away pain so he could help Stiles when his arm was bothering him. He should have broken the kid’s arm himself. (No, said Laura. Yes! whispered Cora behind her back.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, Cora's your favorite. She's mine too.


	3. Something Blue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to my wonderful amazing beta margewearspants for being my cheerleader on this chapter and in life.
> 
> Warning for Douchey Derek, asthma attacks, and a shitton of Hale Family Feels.

**May 2013**

Scott is hanging off a wooden arch by one arm, using the other to weave pink and white roses into the intricate woodwork. Cora’s supposed to put up the chairs but is throwing them around, trying to see if she can aim them well enough that they line up perfectly. Derek is setting up the tables for the caterer at the far end of the patio while Laura is arguing with the DJ installing the PA system around the makeshift dancefloor. Fairy lights were hung last night all over the backyard. Big papers lanterns adorn the higher branches of the surrounding trees. Derek has to admit, it’s beautiful.

Stiles bursts out into the patio carrying bags of food, yelling “I bring sustenance!” Scott crows and jumps off the arch, running towards his friend. Derek fumbles with the table he’s carrying, tripping over his own feet. He rights himself right before his face connects with the wood, thankfully. Scott shoots him a quizzical look while giving Stiles a bro hug. Derek puts down the table where he wants it, clears his throat.

“Yo, big guy, I’ve got food for you too“, Stiles calls. Okay, Derek can do this. He can be casual. Stiles wanted to be his friend when they were younger, no big deal. He wipes his hands on his jeans, makes his way toward where Stiles and Scott are setting up the bags and bags and bags of burgers and fries. Well, at least Stiles knows his audience. Scott is already stuffing his face full of burger and curly fries, yelling for his mom and Melissa, mouth wide open. Derek is amazed that guy has a steady girlfriend. But he’s never met her, so she might be a slob too. That would make a lot of sense. Laura shrieks, jumps over the DJ’s station and runs toward the food, Cora on her heels. Fine, maybe sloppiness runs in the family.

By the time everybody’s there, fighting over food, Derek realizes he’s hovering like a moron. Again. But then Stiles is right next to him, putting a cheeseburger in his hands like an offering to the Gods of Hunger. He gives Derek a small, silent smile and goes to sit next to Melissa on the floor, steals some fries off Scott’s portion and doesn’t get his hand smacked away. Best friend privileges.

Derek waits until his heartbeat is back to normal before he joins his family, sits next to Cora and takes a Coke from the pile in the center. Laura tries to make pointed eye contact with him but he ignores her. He’s got it down to a science by now. Scott’s trying to get Stiles to help him with the flower arrangements because “it’s so, so boring dude – sorry mom – pleaaaase come help me out?”

Stiles takes a bite of his burger, doesn’t meet anyone’s eye. “Why don’t you ask these losers to help you out?” He waves vaguely in Derek and Cora’s direction. “Aren’t they, like, obligated to contribute?” Laura reaches around Scott to scuff him on the head. Stiles heys! and Laura stares him down. After a second he shrugs, like fair enough.

Scott is still whining, fries spilling out of his mouth. “Bro, I’ve barely seen you since we came back to town! I miss you.”

Cora, Laura and Derek roll their eyes at the exact same time. Stiles stayed over the night before last. He and Scott spent the whole time playing Mario Kart and cuddling. They’re grossly codependent, and Derek hates it. He doesn’t really. Except he really, really does.

Stiles ignores their reaction, fixes Scott with a sincere, earnest look. “I know dude. I’m sorry. But I’m meeting with Lydia this afternoon, and I can’t blow her off, you know? She’d have my balls.”

Derek picks at his fries. Right. Lydia Martin. Derek always says her full name in his head. With capitals. Lydia Martin, the love of Stiles’ life since middle school. Derek had… conveniently forgotten about her.

Cora throws a fry at Stiles, nails him in the forehead. “You got a date, Stilinski?”

Stiles looks down at his fries intently, pink blotches appearing high on his cheeks and Derek’s claws are leaving gouges on the wood of the patio. He squirms a little bit, sits over them.

“We’re just getting drinks, catching up, nothing…” he mumbles in the remains of his burger. Scott is smirking and elbowing him, whispering “dude” like that single word conveys how amazed and proud he is of his best bud. Stiles and Scott are ridiculous. Stiles mostly ignores him but can’t really keep his mouth from twitching up at the corners. He looks happy. This day is awful.

“Isn’t she with Whittemore?” Derek hears himself asking, for some reason that is totally out of his understanding.

Scott, Cora and Stiles turn wide, staring eyes toward him. Cora speaks up first. “Gossip much, Der-Der?”

Derek frowns to cover his embarrassment, addresses his burger. “Don’t call me that.”

“She and the snake broke up ages ago”, Stiles defends, earnest. “Decades!” Derek wishes a shark would come in riding tornado and swallow him whole. Or something. He resolves to pretend he’s on a deserted island with his burger and ignore everything that happens from now on.

Which is why he’s baffled when his mouth opens and he hears himself taunt Stiles. “Sound a little defensive there, Stilinski. Scared you don’t measure up?” See, it could have been construed as friendly teasing if Derek’s tone hadn’t been so… Derek-y. God, he hates himself.

Even Talia and Melissa have been distracted from their loved up haze and are staring at Derek like he’s sprouted two heads. Scott seems ready to lunge at him if he dares open his mouth again. Derek really doesn’t plan to, but at this point who knows? He might be possessed. Derek risks a look at Stiles. He’s flushed, gripping his burger so tight the bread is almost totally shredded. It is… quite a sight. Derek looks down at his hands, bites his lip.

“Stiles is worth a thousand Jacksons”, Scott says hotly in the silence.

And somehow, that. That makes Derek livid. He discards his not-even-half-eaten burger on its wrapper, scoffs humorlessly. Laura tries to elbow him over Cora, get him to shut the hell up, but Derek is past saving. “Is he really? And does he need you to fight all of his battles for him?”

Scott, apparently, is too. “What the hell is your problem?” he spits at Derek.

When they were little and Derek was mad at Scott, he would sulk for a few hours (or days) until he couldn’t take Scott’s puppy dog eyes anymore. Scott could take almost anything Derek threw at him, teasing, frustration, petty insults, genuine anger, until he would snap and punch Derek squarely in the face. Then Derek would apologize and Scott would apologize and they would watch a movie about zombies or pirates and cuddle. It was cute when they were kids. It was embarrassing when Derek was a teenager, but Derek couldn’t bring himself to care. He would flip Laura off and quote Curse of the Black Pearl’s dialogues he knew by heart along with Scott.

Now Scott looks very close to punching Derek in the face, but Derek is 99% sure he wouldn’t apologize about it afterwards. And yet Derek can’t stop. “I don’t have a problem, Scott. I just don’t give a fuck.”

Talia is about to object to his language but Melissa puts her hand on hers, tugs her up and away from the kids’ fight. Talia lets herself be led away, probably too preoccupied by her imminent nuptials to wonder why her oldest son’s suddenly turned into a giant douche. Laura rolls her eyes with her whole torso, fixes Derek with a pissed-off, done-with-your-shit look, and gets up to follow. Cora stays put, eats her fries like they’re popcorn, watching them avidly.

“Feel free to fuck off then”, Stiles interjects before Scott decides he’s really ok with slashing his brother’s throat to defend his best friend’s honor. Stiles isn’t even looking at Derek, his gaze fixed two inches to the left of his face, brow pinched. Before Derek can find anything else to say, Stiles stands up, tugging on Scott’s shoulder until he follows. They leave Cora and Derek alone to clean up the mess of napkins, wrappers and half-eaten fast food. Derek is frozen, unable to process what happened or shake the last dredges of his inexplicable rage.

Cora looks at him, munching on a fry. “That escalated quickly.”

::

**Summer 2011**

The day after his return home, Melissa takes Derek hiking through the Preserve. Cora tags along. In Hale speak, "hike" is code for randomly tackling each other to the ground and rolling around in dried leaves. Melissa usually gives points for form and style. Like at everything else, Cora almost always wins. Melissa, Derek and Cora, the less talkative of the bunch, enjoy the easy familiarity of the quiet, the rustling of the trees. Cora seems to light up the further they get into the forest. Derek figures he has about ten minutes before she starts pouncing, fangs and claws out.

Melissa starts to lag behind when they get to the slope of the hill and Derek slows his pace. They all know the hike was as much for his benefit as for hers. Rafael has been trying to contact Scott relentlessly for weeks. He calls and sends emails and texts, always bypassing Melissa to get straight to Scott. So far, he’s only gotten stony silence in return, but Derek knows Melissa is conflicted about the situation. After everything that happened between her and Scott’s dad, she would like nothing more than for him to butt out of their lives and leave their family alone. But she doesn't want to deprive Scott of getting to know his father.

She has to rely on Scott making the right decision for himself and... well, it's not easy to trust a sixteen year old with important decisions. What doesn't help either, is that Scott's asthma has been acting up in very dramatic ways lately. Scott hasn't said anything about it to Derek but Talia had shared her concerns with Laura and Derek over Skype. Of course the correlation between Scott's asthma getting worse and the sudden reappearance of his father escapes no one.

Speaking of his overgrown puppy of a brother, Derek catches his scent shortly after avoiding Cora's second attempt to take him down. He sees Cora's head snap up in his direction and she's off like a shot, clearly on the hunt for someone more amenable to letting themselves be slammed into the ground. His sister, the she-wolf.

He waits for Melissa to catch up with him to tell her Scott's about a quarter of a mile down the slope when he hears the voices ratchet up with urgency. He tenses.

“Derek, what. What is it?” Melissa asks next to him. She squeezes his neck to ground him, a habit she picked up from Talia.

“They're shouting, I'm not su—” and then Derek's running towards the voices. Melissa follows after him.

When he gets to the other side of the hill, he sees them. Scott is on his knees, wheezing, trying to catch his breath. Cora is practically glued to his back, hugging him from behind, her hands under his t-shirt so she can get at skin, black spindly lines snaking up her arms. She's whispering soothing nonsense in his ear, but Scott isn't calming down any. His pulse is erratic, racing frantically. Derek is used to his brother's asthma attacks, but this is a bad one. Stiles is pacing a few feet away from them, looking around furiously, muttering "where where the fuck, how" over and over again.

Derek stops next to Stiles but before he can articulate the obvious question, Stiles grabs his arm, looks up at him with giant, scared eyes. “He lost his inhaler! I can't find it, Derek, I always carry a spare but I can't... I only have this stupid mint mojito gum in my pockets and he can't... Derek, help me look!”

Derek feels his own body react to Stiles' obvious terror and confusion. Everything goes a little fuzzy for a second. Then Derek grabs Stiles by the shoulder and catches his eyes. One teenager panicking is more than enough. “Stiles, it's fine. You keep looking. I'll see if I can help Scott, then I'll look with you, ok?”

He waits for Stiles to give him a jerky nod then lets him go, leaps towards Scott and Cora.

The pitiful, hoarse sounds coming out of his brother's throat make the hair on Derek's neck rise. Scott looks up at him, tears at the corner of his eyes and down his cheeks. Cora's pale from the exertion of drawing out his pain. Her eyes keep flashing yellow, her fangs peek out from her lips, feeding off of Scott's terror.

Derek pries her hands away, puts his own on Scott's chest, one on his ribcage, one just above his heart. He looks at him until Scott looks back and pushes. Scott coughs out a small breath, nods at Derek to keep going. Derek pushes one more, letting out a small gasp at the sheer amount of pain he pulls from Scott. He feels a hand on his shoulder and there is Stiles, holding on to him, looking intently into Scott's eyes. Derek pushes on Scott's ribcage a few more times until he can finally, finally take a breath on his own. Derek lets go and slumps backwards on the ground. He stays there a few seconds, catching his breath, the branches above him almost grey in the blinding afternoon light.

When he sits up, Scott is sandwiched in a hug between Cora and Melissa, quietly sobbing as much as his fragile respiration will allow. Stiles is still standing next to Derek, staring at Scott, gnawing on a thumbnail. Everything stays frozen for a while, until Stiles kicks at leaves, starts searching the ground again. Derek looks at him, gets up on slightly shaky legs, and starts searching too. Stiles throws him a startled glance but doesn’t comment, keeps ruffling leaves this way and that with his foot.

After a while, Melissa detaches herself from Scott, who wipes his face with the sleeve of his hoodie. He attempts to get up, Cora at his side, but stumbles back to the ground. Derek walks up to him and swoops him in a princess carry, starts to walk back toward the house. Scott lets out a feeble chuckle, clearly brought back to their childhood when Derek thought being an older brother meant picking Scott up and carrying him around the house. Derek stands by that technique, by the way. He would have done it with Cora too if she hadn’t bit his head off every time he tried. Scott lets his head fall into the crook of Derek’s neck, exhausted. Melissa walks next to them, her hand circling’s Scott’s wrist. But Stiles is still walking around, eyes fixed on the ground, getting increasingly more frantic.

Derek pauses mid-step, turns toward Cora and gives her a look. She cocks her head to the left but nods. She slowly makes her way to Stiles, grabs his wrist, tugs gently. Stiles stops walking, but keeps his eyes on the ground. She tugs again, and he follows after her. His eyes never leave the ground. Her hand never leaves his.

::

**May 2013**

Derek knocks softly on the door, even though he knows his mom heard him from a mile away. It’s only polite, and Derek was raised right. Recent events notwithstanding. Talia is framed by the setting sun through the window, illuminating her tall, powerful frame and her thin waist. Her black hair takes on red tints, like a halo of fire. Derek flashes his eyes at her on instinct, taken aback by the powerful image. She crooks a half-grin at him, flashes her eyes back, and beckons him inside wordlessly.

A giant mess of light grey and white satin is hung from the dresser door next to her. Derek regards it with perplexity. Talia chuckles slightly, touches his hand to get his attention. "Help me try it on, will you?"

Talia has the magical gift of always being what her kids need. She can talk circles around Laura, be quiet and comforting for Derek, and ground Cora's aggression with placating affection and firm authority. It's like a superpower. When Scott and Melissa entered their life, Talia learned to parent with hugs and constant reassurance. Derek would say it’s a mom thing, but he's seen Sheriff Stilinski adapt his dad mode to suit either Stiles or Scott, so.

Anyway, Derek doesn't know anything about being a parent. He feels twelve right now. He surely acted like it earlier. He holds the bits of cloth his mother hands to him at shoulder height, waiting for further instruction as she ties on some kind of elaborate bodice. He's never seen anything like it. Cora only wears t-shirts, Laura's not herself unless she’s in a tank top, and Kate was always topless under her sweaters. It was... part of the appeal. Not the time, Derek. Not the time.

Talia distracts him from his somber thoughts. “Can you zip me up?”

Derek obliges. On the other side of the dresser is hung Melissa's dress: a simple white gown with a lace shawl. Derek's charcoal suit is still in his bag. He should probably iron it or something.

"So what was that back there?" Talia finally asks, tone soft and inquisitive, but brooking no avoidance or bullshit.

Derek tries for it anyway. "Nothing, mom. I was just… teasing."

"Derek." Again, with the no tolerance for bullshit.

He sighs, looks out the window to avoid her stern gaze. He figures looking longingly out the window, illuminated by the warm, golden light of dusk will make him look like a tortured poet. Or a douche. Who cares, he's going for it. "I don't know. I got mad. I couldn't. I couldn't stop. I'm sorry."

Talia finishes fixing the last parts of her dress together, says: "You don't need to apologize to me, son. To other people, sure. Not me." Derek knows. But hearing her say it settles something inside him still.

"Now, what do you think?" She appraises herself in the full length mirrors. "Good enough?" She twirls, as much for her benefit as for Derek's.

"You look perfect, mom." She does. She looks so happy, so powerful, so in control of everything. Derek wishes he knew what that was like. Talia chuckles, bashful, entirely unlike herself. She reluctantly accepts what she knows to be a sincere compliment. She smiles at Derek, big and unhurried. Derek can't help but grin back. He lets her touch his hair, tweak at his ear like she did when he was little. He leans into the touch a little bit.

She studies him. "What's on your mind? You can tell me anything."

"It's. It's just... different. Being home. I'm not... properly acclimated, I guess."

"Mmh... is it about her?" she asks carefully, still petting his hair, searching his face.

Derek wants to shrug her off, avert his eyes, but she'll never let it go if he does. "No, mom, it really isn't, I swear."

She looks at him, flicks his ear gently. "Okay. Is it about... someone else?"

Derek rolls his eyes, resists the urge to sigh and whine like he's a thirteen year old.  "Mooooom!" Ok, he failed.

The corner of her mouth lifts up in a half smirk. She tugs on his ear affectionately. He tries to throw a glare her way, but he's powerless against the image of his mom, smiling at him in her wedding dress. Words come out of his mouth before he can stop them. "Did it look the same? The dress you wore at your wedding with dad?"

Talia startles at that. Derek has a second to feel bad about it until his mom's face is overcome with a look of intense nostalgia. There's no pain there, just love and the bittersweet sorrow of distant loss. Talia sits down next to him on the bed. "When I married your dad, I wore this flowy white dress with a 60's cut. I wanted a gown but I couldn't have worn one, because I was six months pregnant. With you."

"Really?" Derek asks, taken aback by his mom’s simple honesty.

Talia almost never spoke of their father. There were a few family pictures here and there from when they were all babies, and sometimes Laura, who had the clearest memories of him, would share the little she remembered with Derek and Cora, but dads weren't easily brought up in the McCall-Hale household. It had much more to do with Melissa and Scott's problematic – to say the least – relationship with Rafael, than with Talia's hurt at James' death. Derek had never seen pictures of his parents’ wedding. Hearing his mom speak so freely of it, as if it had happened a week ago, brings about a sense of newfound understanding, like a new layer of intimacy between them.

Talia has a faraway look in her eyes as she picks at her dress absently. "Baby Laura was in uncle Peter’s arms. He was the best man. And now Laura’s my maid of honor. Funny how that turned out", she adds with a chuckle. Derek is beyond words right now, so he lets the silence hang between them until she picks it up.

"We didn't want to get married at first. It was that kind of time, people shared each other's lives, had families without necessarily getting hitched. But then when I got pregnant with you, suddenly all we wanted, your dad and I, was to have the biggest, happiest family possible. We wanted to build a dynasty of Hales. We wanted to belong to each other in every way. I guess the pack instinct took over…” Her tone takes on a wondering quality. “Those were the happiest years of my life." She stays quiet for a while before amending: "of that life."

She smiles up at Derek. He smiles back hesitantly. She brings a hand up to smooth his brow.

"What about now, though? What's different now?"

Talia sighs, settles more comfortably on the bed, heedless to the many wrinkles she’s probably inflicting on her dress. “I’ve never talked about this with you, I guess. Laura and I spoke at length about how our family came to be when she did that weird rebellion thing when she was fourteen, remember?” Derek nods. “I’ve never really considered having that discussion with you or Cora, you always seemed to fit seamlessly into our weird dynamic.” Derek wants to interrupt, protest, but he stays silent.

“The truth is, when I first started dating Melissa, I was still grieving for your father. When people die you don’t suddenly stop loving them, you know? Of course you know, hon. But at the same time I felt alive for the first time since Peter called to… I remember the first time she took my hand, my heart almost beat out of my chest.” She touches her own cheek, lost in troubled memories.

“So I was angry at myself and scared of being happy with someone else, someone who wasn’t him. I kept waiting for things to fall apart. But they didn’t. In Melissa I found support and understanding and comfort. And for some reason she found all that in me too. We spent a crazy amount of time talking about your fathers and you kids, those first few months. And when we finally decided to take the leap and make our family one, it was even scarier. I was so afraid you would react badly. That our family, who we were, wouldn’t be enough.”

Talia is gripping Derek’s hand, hard. Enough of her alpha strength leaks through it that it actually hurts a little bit, but Derek grips back almost as hard. Her words feel like the ledge to a precipice he’s not ready to fall into.

“But you guys took Scott in like he was one of us, way before he took the bite. Laura and you adopted him before Melissa and I were even sure of what we felt for each other. And when Cora finally came around, it was like we were meant to be together. It all _fit_. I was waiting for the giant hole you dad had left behind to manifest itself, to take up space in our lives, and looking back I guess Melissa was expecting the same thing. But it never did. Even through the custody battle with Rafael and Laura’s crisis, you guys just kept on being a family, our family. And today, when I see how good you guys grew up – yes, even you, Derek, don’t you scowl at me – I don’t feel a doubt in my mind that all this stemmed from the right decision.”

Derek gulps, staring at his mom. He doesn’t want to know the rest. But he needs to. “What do you mean?”

“I mean… even though I knew I was falling for Melissa, I wasn’t over your dad, over the pain of losing him. I could have kept falling and done nothing about it. But she convinced me to jump, with her. And I did, I took that very deliberate, very precise decision, of jumping with her. Of committing to something new, something scary. Through everything that was holding me back, as a new alpha, as a widow, as a young mother of three. And it was the right decision.”

Derek breathes. The questions just keep coming.  “Why didn’t you guys get married then? Why now?”

Talia chuckles, releases his hand. She stands up and presents her back to Derek. As he lowers the zipper of her dress, she starts talking again.

“As I said, it was touch-and-go for a long time. We were sure of each other, but not of the situation. And there was the matter of Rafael refusing to divorce Melissa. And there was really no need. Our family was you guys. It was perfect as it was.”

She pulls the dress off, puts on a large baseball t-shirt that Derek knows belonged to his dad. She takes great care in smoothing the dress down, hanging it back on the dresser door.

“And it wasn’t exactly legal for a long time”, she adds with a half-smile as she turns back towards Derek. “Now though, our family is all grown. You guys are going off doing your own thing. Most of our parenting is done. This is our time. It’s been almost fourteen years to the day since our first date. Do you remember? It was just after a full moon. Scott was staying over. I had Peter babysit you, and when I came home you were all asleep in my bed in a puppy pile. Even Cora was there, tucked between you and Laura.”

Derek does remember. He remembers Peter letting Laura pick out a scary movie and being afraid to sleep in his own room afterwards. He remembers Peter suggesting they build a fort in their momma’s room, and he remembers thinking “but we’re not supposed to go into momma’s room when she’s not there” but not daring to say it in the face of his sisters’ greedy enthusiasm.

His mom pats his hand gently, like she can feel the nostalgia wafting off of him. “Fourteen years later, I still want to spend all of my time with her. She’s my best friend, she’s my partner. I don’t want to waste another minute doubting. I want to belong to her in every way.”

Derek isn’t 100% on his capacity to form words right now, so he reaches for his mom’s hand, squeezes it hard once again. Talia’s looking at him with an open, gentle expression. She clears her throat, like she’s surprised with her own honesty but doesn’t regret it one bit. Derek doesn’t regret it either. “I guess I should put that in my vows, don’t you think?”

Derek chokes out a laugh, pulls her into a gentle hug. He murmurs into her shoulder: “Thanks, Mom.”

She lets him burrow into the embrace for as long as he needs to, rubs her nose into his hair, an alpha scenting her beta. “No problem, bunny.”

Derek sighs, pulls back. “ _Mom_ , please.”

Talia gives him an amused smirk. “I made you, I get to call you whatever I please.” She shoos him out gently. “Now go, think of a good apology for tomorrow morning.” She fixes Derek with an alpha look. “There will be no fighting at my wedding, got it?”

Derek gulps, nods silently. Talia smiles approvingly, and closes the door in his face.


	4. Something Else

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More Scott, a little bit of Sterek, feels and awkwardness. Yay.

**Summer 2011**

As night falls, Scott has slightly recovered from his attack in the woods and everyone gathers around the dining room table for the McCall-Hales to have a Family Meeting. Plus Stiles. Scott insisted that Stiles had to be here, as a representative of Team Scott. Like there is any other team at the table. Melissa rolled her eyes and relented.

Scott is looking pale and withdrawn, wrapped in a thick wool blanket, but his eyes are clear, his jaw set. Derek wants to reach out, squeeze his wrist. He hates seeing his brother this vulnerable. Which is, he supposes, precisely the point of this meeting.

“So”, Talia starts, but she's immediately interrupted by Scott.

“I want you to give me the bite.”

Well. That's out there now. Cat out of the bag and all the clichés. Talia looks at him for a moment, face unreadable. “If that is what you want, I will give it to you.” Talia's eyes flit toward Melissa for a second, looking for confirmation that she's ok with this. Melissa's face is grim, and she's gripping Scott's hand in hers, but she nods minutely. “But I need you to be really sure, because there's no going back once it's done.”

Scott scoffs at that, sweeps his arm to indicate Laura, Derek and Cora. “They never had a choice in the matter and they seem pretty ok to me.”

Laura cocks her head to the side, like she's ready to disagree, but she chooses not to express her opinion right this second. Cora preens because yeah, being a werewolf is awesome, thank you very much. Derek tries to make himself as small as possible. He hates being used as a prop in an argument.

“I'm sure, Talia. I want this”, Scott say, his face earnest.

Talia sighs, her back and neck rigid, the picture of a powerful alpha. “Being born and being bitten are two very different things…” she says, sparing a glance at her werewolf children. “I need you to understand the consequences – all of the consequences – before we go through with it.”

Scott rolls his eyes and leans back in his chair, but nods to signify he's listening. Talia reaches for his hand as if to catch his from across the table. When she speaks, her voice is softer. “You know the bite doesn't always take. You're a teenager and you bounce back quickly, so the chances of it not taking it are slim, but... you shouldn't forget the alternative.” Scott makes a dismissive sound at the back of his throat but Talia goes on. “Scott. We are your family. As part of your family, I ask you to consider the alternative. Please.”

Scott looks like he wants to say something but he holds off, nods slowly, eyes fixed on Talia’s. Melissa squeezes his hand even tighter. Stiles fidgets in his seat. Cora kicks him under the table, and he startles a little bit. Talia, oblivious, continues in the same tone. “If the bite takes, it will change a lot of things for you. You will have to learn control. It will be hard and long and take a lot of efforts. You'll have to train with me. You'll have to stop your extra-curriculars, a least for a little while.”

Stiles perks up at that. “No more Lacrosse practice?” he asks with a bit too much hope. This time, Derek kicks him in the shin. It's worth it if only for the look of outrage on Stiles face. Talia ignores them.

“Do you understand? You might get rid of your asthma but it will take months of training to get you to have a normal life. And it will change forever.” She lets the silence hang for a while, waiting for Scott to fully absorb what she’s saying. Her eyes, insistent on him, seem to flicker red from time to time. Laura’s flicker yellow in automatic response. “If you only want the bite to get rid of your asthma, there are treatments we can try first. You know money's not an issue here, there are a lot of options open to you. And we'll help you through it, anyway we can. You don't have to be a werewolf to be cured.”

The quiet stretches after Talia stops speaking. Scott is looking down at the table. Derek and Laura exchange looks. Stiles taps his fingernails on the table, seems to catch himself and cringes, expecting a third kick. When none come, he takes his hand back and folds it on his lap, trying to look as innocent and small as possible. Which is to say, not very much at all. At least he's entertaining.

“That's it?” Scott asks, eyes still on the table. “That’s all you had to say? You don't want me to take the bite because you think I only want it for my asthma?” Talia opens her mouth but doesn’t seem to know what to say to that. Scott speaks before she can figure out how to answer. “What if... what if I want it for other reasons, too?”

Melissa speaks up for the first time then, her tone brisk, demanding. “What other reasons?”

Scott turns towards his mom with his whole body, their hands tightly interlocked between them. His voice, still weak from that afternoon, is rising in pitch and speed. “Of course I want my asthma gone and it'd be cool to get the powers and to finally have a chance at beating Cora at something—“

Cora snorts and mumbles: "Don't count on it". Scott throws her a quick grin before turning back to Melissa, earnest all over again.

“It's like... okay, Mom, I don't even remember a time when we didn't live here.” Melissa looks at him intensely, startled. “I have all of these instincts of pack, like a wolf, like them – again, with the arm sweeping – and I… I'm different from everyone else, okay, because of them. No normal teenager needs to cuddle with his siblings, and people don't bare their neck to each other or snap their teeth at each other in the middle of an argument!” Scott is half shouting now, his breath quickly leaving him. “Mom, I didn't even know this wasn't normal until this douchebag Jackson started pointing it out at school!”

Stiles mutters "snake" under his breath and Derek can't help but agree. Scott turns back towards Talia, keeping both of his hands in his mom’s.

“It’s like… I’m already a wolf, in my head.” Scott lets that sink for a second. “But I can’t run and scent and heal and shift and feel the moon like you guys do. The only thing I can do is be the severe asthmatic who has to be careful all the time and feels like he’s dying twice a week anyway.” His voice is a husk now, barely audible to human ears. Derek is hanging on each of Scott’s breaths. “It’s not fair. I just want my body to be able to do what my brain already thinks it can. I want to be like them”, Scott concludes, jutting his chin in Derek and Cora’s direction.

When Talia keeps looking intently at him, silent, Scott adds with a small shrug: “I want to be their real brother, you know?” 

In the silence that follows, the thuds of his family’s hearts (plus Stiles) sound like they’re ringing in Derek’s ears. Scott is staring fixedly at the table, and everyone else is staring at Scott. He sneaks a glance at Melissa, who looks back, eyes shining with unshed tears. She turns her head toward Talia and they have one of those legendary telepathic conversations only parents have. Talia gets up, back straight, eyes unwavering from Scott. She walks towards them, squeezes Scott 's neck. She tells him: “Okay then.”

Scott's chair scrapes against the wooden floor when he springs up to hug Talia. She returns it, one hand tangled with Melissa's. Laura smiles at Derek. Cora tries to look bored by the proceedings but can't help looking up happily at her mom and Scott. Stiles beams, like a proud mother. It's... kinda cute.

Derek is going to stop thinking that _now_.

::

**May 2013**

Derek takes a big breath, smooths down the lapels of his suit jacket one last time. His hands are shaking. He rolls his eyes at himself. He’s a werewolf, goddammit. And he has no reason to be nervous. No reason at all. His mom’s getting married, so what? Stiles Stilinski will be present at the ceremony and the reception, big deal. In a suit. Most probably with the gorgeous, deadly Lydia Martin on his arm. Derek wishes his goddam hands would stop shaking.

He steps outside on the patio, surveys the garden, the waiters swiftly setting up the refreshments. Scott finished adorning the arch with flowers last night, the chairs are impeccably aligned, forming a perfect aisle. The afternoon light gives the wild flowers bouquets a golden tint. Everything is quietly, effortlessly beautiful and suddenly Derek’s heart bursts with happiness for his mothers. This is perfect.

Derek feels Laura come up to him, smoothing the edge of her tight fitting dark purple dress. He turns toward her, makes a show of appraising her. She preens. Derek raises a silent eyebrow, and she laughs. He feels like hugging her, and his face must say so, because she gives him a soft, fond smile, and kisses his cheek. “You look good, bro. Who knew there was a chin beneath the beard?”

Derek can’t even bring himself to quip back. He squeezes her shoulder. “The place is beautiful. You did good.” In a quick return to form, Laura laughs in his face. “No thanks to you, party pooper.” She dances away from him as Cora jumps down the stairs, heels in her hand. She’s wearing a dress a shade lighter than Laura’s but much, much shorter. Derek would disapprove if he didn’t fear painful retribution. She makes a face at Derek as if she knows what he’s thinking and, well, fair enough.

Derek’s hovering near the bar, trying to guess by smell what kind of wolfsbane whisky they got on hand (the caterer is owned by a friendly pack up north) when the door bursts open and Scott and Stiles spill out. Scott spent the night at Stiles, still smarting from his fight with Derek, but when he looks up and catches sight of his brother, his grin doesn’t falter.

Scott can never hold a grudge, it’s one of his many endearing qualities, one Derek is presently extremely thankful for. Scott literally _skips_ over to him and pulls Derek into an enthusiastic, elated hug. Derek is simultaneously relieved and annoyed that his suit is already getting rumpled. Scott claps him on the back, pulls back to grin at him some more. He seems happy beyond words. What a goddam puppy. Derek ruffles his hair and suddenly Stiles is there, squawking at Derek.

“Watch it wolfman! I spent hours styling this beautiful mane of masculine hair.” Of course Stiles did Scott's hair. But Derek can't muster up real irritation because of Stiles. In a suit. No Lydia Martin in sight. Just him. In a light grey, slightly too large suit jacket, and sinfully tight (so tight, oh my god, Derek is pretty sure he died) pants. His white dress shirt open just enough to reveal collarbones made to bite. Sweet Jesus. Derek needs to not be here right now.

Stiles catches his very obvious staring, looks down at himself. “What, is there a stain? No dude, I was so careful!” Derek shakes his head, swallowing around the weight in his throat.

“N.. no stain. You look good.” Stiles seems caught off guard by that, but not as much as Derek, who should really invest in a goddam filter. Scott is still grinning at them, oblivious. Like a switch has been flipped, Stiles suddenly gives Derek a blinding grin, and Derek’s heart just. Stops. He feels elated and stupid and shitty for treating Stiles badly the last time they saw each other. Scott catches sight of Cora and leaps toward her, envelops her in a spinning hug as she shrieks with delight. Stiles looks on, grin still in place.

The whole house is radiating happiness and Derek buzzes with it, slightly uncomfortable by all this unencumbered joy. Stiles focuses his attention back on him and when their eyes meet Derek realizes he’s been staring at him non-stop since they started talking. When did he get so close? He can count Stiles’ eyelashes. He’s pretty sure his lungs are not functioning correctly.

Derek opens his mouth to talk, apologize for yesterday, but he’s not sure he remembers how words work. Stiles is watching him expectantly, hands in his pant pockets. Derek really wishes he wouldn’t. He tries for a scowl because that always helps him regain his composure, but his face is busy trying to do the happy thing and he really needs to say something, anything, right the fuck now.

Derek shuffles his feet, looks anywhere but at Stiles. He can feel the brand of his eyes on him, unwavering. His tie is too tight. "N... no Lydia Martin?"

Stiles chuckles, a hint of something dark under the amusement. "Wouldn't want to upset your delicate sensibilities", Stiles barely jokes. "She's coming to the reception later, Scott invited her. A while ago."

Derek feels hot behind the ears, cheeks warm with shame. Silence hangs, awkward, between them. Stiles bristles, like he's unable to help himself from pushing and as much as Derek understands the impulse, he’s not sure he can take it right now. "What did she ever do to you anyway? I remember pretty vividly her being a bitch towards Scott and me in middle school… and high school… But as far as I know, you guys have never even talked. What could you possibly have against her?"

Derek can’t go with the truth (he’s jealous. Awfully jealous. Shameful, petty jealousy. He’s such a loser), so he’s trying for an apology instead. As soon as he can get the words out. He has to speak, eventually. Preferably without bursting into ashamed, pleading tears.

"I'm, I'm sorry." That shuts Stiles up. Sweet merciful God. "I was... nervous, about all this.” He waves at their surroundings, indicating the slowly arriving guests, the increasingly frantic waiters. “You know, I'm not very good with... people." That earns him a slightly amused huff. "I just... the tension was building and I... took it out on you. And Scott. I'm sorry."

There's a scuff on his dress shoes he hadn't noticed before. Damn. He sees Stiles's sneakers (seriously? Sneakers? With a suit? At a wedding? Why does Derek think it's charming, for fuck's sake!?) enter his line of vision. He looks up.

And immediately regrets it because Stiles is right there, hovering just outside of Derek's personal space, eyes flitting over Derek's face. Where has all the air gone? Derek tries to wheeze as subtly as possible while Stiles' eyes linger on his lips. "Because I'm so easy to wind up, right?"

Derek is so beyond words it's not even funny. He stammers a "y... yeah. You. And, and Scott."

Stiles snorts, steps back. "Yeah, me. And Scott", he echoes. He smiles at Derek, a subdued, almost sad thing. "Apology accepted", he says seriously, nodding at Derek. Derek hesitantly nods back. Stiles shoots him a last, pointed look, and turns away, strides towards Cora and Scott with a "Hey! Hands off his hair, Hale!"

Derek is frozen in place, unsure what just happened. It seems to be a theme, when it comes to Stiles and him.

 


	5. Something More

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!! This chapter is unbeta'ed, and it shows.  
>  I'm sorry for any and all mistakes. No matter how much I want it to be, English is still not my first language.
> 
> I think you guys are gorgeous and amazing.  
> \---  
> Brace yourselves for wedding stuff, teenage angst and Uncle Peter.
> 
> BTW, Melissa and Talia’s “going down the aisle” song is Reflecting Light, and yes, it’s a Gilmore Girls song, and no, I know no shame.

**Summer 2011**

A week after the fateful Family Meeting, Derek comes back from his afternoon jog to find the Jeep in the driveway, Stiles' heartbeat pitter-pattering from inside the house. To Derek's best recollection, Stiles hasn't come by since Scott's last asthma attack. His last asthma attack _ever_ , he thinks with a smirk. Derek lets himself into the house, strips off his shirt and shucks it toward the hamper in the laundry room. He follows the sound of a conversation to the kitchen.

"So what do you say?" Stiles appears to be asking Cora. She's slumped against the breakfast counter, devouring a sandwich. Stiles is wrinkling his nose at her but trying to engage all the same. Cora is absorbed in her sandwich. She doesn't answer. Derek is not entirely sure she noticed Stiles is there. Or, she's ignoring him. That seems to be the usual reaction to Stiles.

Derek moves to the fridge, grabs a water. Stiles sees him and pounces. “Derek! Heyyyy, Derek! How you doing big guy?”

Derek takes a gulp of his water. He stares at Stiles, raises his eyebrows, waits another second or two just to be a dick. "Stiles."

Stiles is not impressed. "Yeah yeah, you hate me, words are beneath you, your abs can save the world, we get it." The acrid stench of his frustration and nerves hits Derek's nose, makes him recoil slightly. Stiles doesn’t waver from his upbeat, eager attitude though. He's tapping his fingers against the counter. Cora waves her hand in his vicinity, like she's swatting a fly, eyes fixed on her food.

"What'cha doing right now? Wanna hang out?"

Derek finishes his bottle, crumples it and tosses it in the trash. He turns back with a snort. "No."

“Come on, dude! I know you're missing your Stiles time!”

Derek wrinkles his nose. _Stiles time._ Ludicrous. He heads up the stairs. What he's missing is shower time. He repeats, louder: "No."

Stiles calls from the foot of the stairs: "Liar! I don't need to have creepy werewolf powers to know that was a lie!"

::

When Derek comes back down, still damp from his blissfully long, hot shower, Stiles is still here, sitting on a stool in the kitchen. He's the picture of nervous energy: legs jiggling, thumbnail chewed ruthlessly. Derek sighs. He doesn't have time for this. Or rather, he has all the time in the world. But not for this. He listens for sounds in the house, signs that someone else is there. Anybody else, who could deal with Stiles instead of him. He's greeted by total silence. The one time Derek needs his loud, overbearing family around, no one’s around.

Derek rolls his neck once, twice, steels himself. He pulls the stool in front of Stiles, sits heavily. “What.”

Stiles looks up and snorts right in Derek’s face. “Nice inflexion there. I could almost hear a question. You’ve made progress, dude.”

Derek flexes his hands around the table so he won’t flex them around Stiles’ neck. “Stiles. What.”

One of Stiles’ eyebrows ticks up. “Aaaah, see? You lost it there. So close.”

Derek just looks at him. And looks at him and looks at him and looks at him. Stiles looks back. Derek holds his breath, counts to five, lets it out slowly. He bites out a “fine” and makes to get up. Stiles lunges across the table, grabs Derek’s shoulder. Derek raises his eyebrows at him but sits back down.

Stiles releases his shoulder slowly, as if not to spook a dangerous creature. Which, fair. He sighs, makes eye contact with Derek. “Sorry. I’m just not used to you being… helpful or whatever. It’s just that-” Stiles cuts himself off, opens his mouth a few times. “I knew it was going to be different. I knew he was going to go through changes, that at first he wouldn’t have time to…” Stiles flails his hand around his head to indicate something Derek doesn’t have the energy to decipher. “But it’s been him and me for as long as I can remember and I don’t…” More flailing. “I’m _bored_ , okay, and I’m lonely, and I’m running out of people I can bug until they hang out with me.” Stiles trails off. A few heartbeats of silence pass between them. Sties looks up, right into Derek’s eyes and says: “and he’s such a _dick_!”

Derek lets out a surprised bark of laughter at that.

“D’you know how… in the legends… the shape you take when you get the bite, it reflects who you are, right?” Derek nods slowly, already dreading where this is going. Stiles leans more heavily toward him. “Derek, your brother… he’s a weredouche!” Stiles is equal parts earnest and smirking, but his heartbeat is steady, his scent sour with frustrated anger.

Derek is smirking back, though. He doesn’t know why exactly, he just… can’t help it. He tries for a scowl, but it doesn’t take. His mouth pulls up without his consent. There’s probably sorcery at work here. “What did he do now?” Derek asks against his better judgment.

“He just… He’s been... I know, okay, I know it’s going to take time for him to adjust to his new senses and stuff but the mood swings and how he never listens to anything I say and he tells me to come meet him places and when I get there he’s never there and he does this dismissive eyebrow thing that I’ve only seen on that douche Jackson Whittemore and, and YOU!” Stiles shouts, half springs out of his chair, shoving an arm under Derek’s nose. He goes cross eyed trying to look at the accusing finger waggling in his face. After a second, Stiles slumps back in his chair. The fight seems to have left him.

Derek lets one eyebrow rise, doing all the talking. Stiles squints at him. “Mmh, so he definitely gets that from you”, he mumbles.

Derek catches his eye, says softly: “It won’t last forever. He’s a teenager, the period of adjustment is a little bit longer sometimes, because of the hormones and the instincts… He will come back to himself at some point. Don’t worry about it.” He reaches out a hand toward Stiles, thinks better of it, stops mid-air between them. Stiles seems to mull that over for a bit.

He asks in a small voice, avoiding Derek’s eyes: “What if… what if it’s not him, though? What if it’s me? What if, now that he’s not… he’s better, he can do whatever he wants… he can find, better friends, more… what if he doesn’t want to be friends anymore?”

Derek looks at him, all of him, incredulous. He rolls his eyes with his whole body, the movement making Stiles look up, surprised. “Jeez, teenage angst much?” Stiles looks like he’s fighting between righteous anger and amusement. Derek takes advantage of it to continue: “However douchey he is right now, Scott is still Scott. You guys have been best friends for ages. No matter how much we tried to shake you off, we couldn’t. And believe me, we tried.” Stiles scoffs. “It won’t be any different now.”

Stiles looks at him. Gives him a small, private smile. And promptly ruins the moment by saying: “Gee, Derek, I didn’t know you _cared_.” Derek shoves his face into the counter.

::

Stiles hangs around the house a lot that summer. Sometimes he’s with Scott. Most times though, Stiles is sitting on the porch railing, moping, or sitting at the kitchen table, playing on his phone, or napping on the living room couch exactly when Derek wants to watch a baseball game on the big screen, goddammit.

Talia takes advantage of his constant presence to have him rip off the roots of the wolfsbane plants that somehow always sprout around the house in the summer. She doesn’t let him come into the house when he’s done, has him strip down to his boxers in the backyard and hoses him down in the fading afternoon sunlight, while Laura and Cora cackle like madwomen, watching from the kitchen.

Cora tries to ignore him for as long as she can, then gets bored and makes him play goalie in her one woman lacrosse championship. Stiles has more bruises from that than from that time he fell out of a tree in the Preserve when he was nine. He vows to never, ever do it again, ever. He’s back in goal the next day.

Melissa teaches him how to knit during a summer storm. Stiles gets his fingers and the needles so intricately tangled with the wool thread that Talia has to slice through his entire misshapen scarf with her claws before he cuts off his circulation. They have to listen to him whine about it all evening afterwards.

Laura takes him shopping. Buys him a scarf to replace the one he tried to knit, even though it is like a million degrees outside right now, oh my god Laura. She also buys him a new backpack, two Star Wars t-shirts, and a Yoda figurine (“It’s an action figure!” Stiles argues. “It’s a toy for nerds”, Laura counters). And a giant pretzel. They sit in the food court and eat, watch people pass by, make up stories about them. He tells her about his plans for Senior Year, about his elaborate scheme to ask Lydia Martin out to Prom. Laura tells him about grad school and Portland. Stiles tells Laura she’s his favorite. Laura calls Stiles a shameless liar.

Derek lets Stiles mope and nap and play on his phone. He has his own stuff to think of, and he’s not a goddam babysitter. He goes into the woods a lot, just lets himself seep into the wolf, turn off that part of his brain that’s still looking for _her_ everywhere he goes. It gets easier and easier, but it never stops hurting.

One evening when Stiles hits the hour mark on waiting for Scott to show up for their movie night, Derek hauls him off to the roof. He makes Stiles promise to stop babbling, Stilinski, I mean it, stay quiet, or I’ll push you off the roof. They watch the stars, and Stiles stays heroically quiet for fourteen minutes before he cracks down and starts telling Derek about the constellations he can make out. Derek must admit, it’s kinda nice. When Stiles falls asleep around 2am, Derek carries him back down, sets him on Scott’s bed. Stiles mumbles in his sleep, rubs his face on Scott’s pillow. Derek… Derek should really stop staring like a creep. He walks back to his room, makes himself fall asleep without thinking of anything.

::

**May 2013**

Derek and Cora are standing on one side of the flowery arch, Laura and Scott on the other. His siblings are oscillating wildly between solemn and giggly. In front of them, about fifty people Derek has known all his life. Talia and Melissa had forgone inviting the extended family, because they wanted a small, headache-free wedding, and the Hale side alone was about two hundred people wide.

So it was only a handful of Derek’s favorite aunts, a few cousins, and people from the town: his moms’ colleagues, a few doctors from the hospital, the creepy veterinarian Scott used to work for in high school, Cora’s old Lacrosse coach, and the Sheriff. Stiles’ dad. No problem here. None at all.

Rafael, after many tense Skype conversations between Scott and Melissa, had not been invited. “Mom, he ruined enough of your marriages. He’s not a part of our family. He’s not,” Scott had vehemently argued until Melissa gave up trying to force him to reconnect with his father. In the privacy of their own heads, they all thought it was for the best.

Another big absent was Uncle Peter, Derek’s father’s brother. Talia and Peter had always been on friendly terms. He used to come stay with them at Christmas when they were little. Cora spent last summer in the huge condo Peter shares with his boyfriend in Florida. Peter had always treated Melissa and Scott as family as well, and by that Derek means he inflicted his weirdness on them as equally as he did to the Hales. But he was in the middle of a huge European book signing tour and couldn’t take time off for the ceremony. About a week prior, he'd sent Talia and Melissa, in true Uncle Peter fashion, a giant teddy bear and a plastic rose that lit up and sang “Isn't She Lovely” when you pressed its petals.

Derek is jerked out of his thoughts by people getting up and turning to peer at Talia and Melissa walking down the aisle together. They're holding onto each other in a tight grip, looking radiant. His heart swells up in his chest at the sight. The collective sigh from the audience and the stench of happiness wafting off his siblings tell Derek he's not alone.

Every moment from then on can be measured in heartbeats. His moms get to the arch. Talia turns toward him and smiles, squeezes his hand. He feels his heart thud in his chest. In her vows, Melissa tells Talia that she fell in love with her and her whole family, that what they built together is everything. Cora is grinding her teeth hard so she won’t cry. Scott is openly weeping on the other side. Derek hears the blood rush in his ears, so loud he can't hear his mom say “I do”. Talia dips Melissa in a Hollywood kiss, the crowd cheers. Laura is hugging Derek and muting her sniffles in his neck. He can see his own pulse in his wrist. Stiles catches his eye from the audience, sitting right next to his dad, and smiles. His heart stops for precisely two beats.

 


	6. Something Stupid

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in one day? Relax, it's a short one.
> 
> This chapter is unbeta'ed, and it shows.
> 
> Brace yourselves for Kate Argent!

**May 2013**

Night has quietly fallen on their heads, half full moon shining like a beacon. The fairy lights and high candles illuminate the smiling faces of his family’s loved ones. People are congratulating the brides, chattering loudly, drinking champagne. Cora slips Derek a wolfsbane beer with a wink, nurses her own.

Derek hasn’t said a word since the ceremony. He sticks close to Cora, smiles on demand, gets hugs from aunts, blushes at the “I can’t believe how handsome you are Derek! You’ve finally grown into these ears of yours”, studiously avoids the Sheriff’s immediate vicinity. Scott’s animatedly talking to Deaton and one of their younger cousins, who looks up at him like he might be the sixth member of One Direction or something.

Talia and Melissa seem to be floating on their own little cloud of love, leaving Laura to fend off the more inquisitive questions of the aunts and colleagues. Derek snorts into his beer at the slightly dazed look a young lawyer is giving her as she shares her pointed views on Article 522 of Lebanon’s Penal Code. A booming laugh catches his attention. Of course his eyes fall on Stiles, long fingers wrapped around a champagne flute, seemingly unable to contain his laughter at the story Derek’s aunt Maisie is telling him, her hands flying about. It’s like time slows down with a dread when he sees her mimicking prominent bunny teeth and no.

No no no no. Not at his mothers’ wedding, goddammit. He feels himself take a step forward, walking with lead boots, to try and stop this train wreck from happening. Stiles isthrowing him increasingly amused looks, Derek's ears are burning and — suddenly Laura’s there, asking his aunt how cousin Josh is doing. Thank god. Derek will let her buy that disgusting light beer that she likes and vacuum the couch when she asks. He’ll clean out the shower drain. From now on until forever.

Maisie looks like she’s chewing on a bunch of lemons. Cousin Josh lives in a loft in Brooklyn with eight other starving artists. He’s trying to make it as a slam poet, and moonlights as a dancer in a Manhattan gay club to pay the bills. Aunt Maisie and her husband Bill Disapprove. Derek’s always liked the kid. Laura and he went to visit him in New York last Christmas. He’s a talented dancer. Poet, not so much.

Derek takes deep breaths, drinks his beer, tries to regain his composure and melt into the background once again. Crisis averted. But he can feel Stiles’ eyes on him from a few yards away, still talking to Laura and Maisie. He can feel his slight smirk, the way he’s blinking, slow, lazy. Derek turns, looks at him. Stiles doesn’t startle, looks back.

It’s like Derek’s eyes are magnetized. He cannot look away from him. He’s always pulled towards him, like he’s Derek’s personal center of gravity and he hates it. Hates feeling like that, kind of like _she_ made him feel. She’s always in italics in his brain, everything about her slightly slanted and unbalanced. But Stiles. Stiles makes him feel like he’s standing at the edge of a cliff and there’s a hand on his shoulder, pulling him back. Like he’s a jumble of wires intricately tangled together, and Stiles could find the knot at the heart of it and unravel it with a flick of the wrist.

Derek brings his beer to his mouth, to give his shaking hands something to _do_ , but it’s empty. He considers the crowd, people mingling from a group to another, faces happy, or increasingly inebriated. Melissa is talking to the Sheriff, heads bent together, while Talia has an arm around Laura, whispering quiet, emotional things you only say at weddings. His moms are still holding hands. Derek wonders if they’ll let go of each other tonight. Or in this lifetime. Ugh, this wedding is making him think sappy things. He turns toward the kitchen to go get himself another beer. Behind him, he feels Stiles hesitate, then follow.

::

**Spring 2010**

They’re kissing in an empty classroom and all Derek can feel and hear and smell is her. She throws her head back and laughs, a throaty, bewitching sound. Derek buries his face where her neck meets her shoulder to chase it. He could live his whole life right there, wrapped around her. He could replace oxygen with her scent. He could build a world to the shape of her hips.

She sighs, grabs the short hair at the nape of his neck, use them to pull his head away from her. Her nails bite into his skin and he’s never been this turned on in his life.

“Do you like this? Knowing we could get caught at any moment?” she says before biting at his neck, his Adam’s apple, his lower lip. She’s pulling so hard on his hair it hurts. Derek cannot contain a soft, aroused growl. “My dad could walk in right now, see us. I could lose my job for this. All because of _you_.” She punctuates her sentence by yanking Derek’s head away from the slope of her breasts, pushing him down. He goes willingly, eagerly, settling on his knees in between her legs, almost shredding the zipper on her jeans because he can’t seem to get his claws under control. He tries to breathe, closes his eyes to get himself under control. But her finger is lifting his chin up to look at her, and she’s smirking down at him, a mischievous glint in her eyes making Derek shudder. “Come on, pup.”

It first happened about two months ago. Derek went to Kate Argent's office to discuss a paper the professor had assigned for the next week, hoping for some pointers on how to develop the thermochemistry theory he chose to focus on. Ten minutes into their appointment, Kate had the door locked and they were furiously making out. Derek had made a decent grade on his paper anyway.

They hadn’t stopped since then. She would never look at him in class, ignore him so thoroughly that by the time class ended and he was slamming her against the lecture hall door, all he wanted was for her to keep her intense, hungry gaze focused on him, to hear her scream his name. But she never did.

They kept their relationship secret for understandable reasons: a TA couldn’t be seen with a student, especially a TA whose father was the Dean of Derek’s faculty. But the secrecy seemed to turn her on, which in turn aroused Derek to no end. Kate was beautiful, like no woman he had ever seen before. She had a sharp mind, a wicked, often dark sense of humor. But what attracted Derek like a moth to a flame was the wildness, the danger he could feel in her, something that responded to his own wild side. She was unpredictable in all things, often rough during sex, and she could have a cruel edge. Derek could never stop wanting her, thought about it all the time.

It was worth the risks, of getting caught, of lying to an increasingly worried Laura, of maybe getting expelled if everything was uncovered. It was worth the thrill of fear when he would catch the piercing, unsettling gaze of Gerard Argent in the halls of the faculty. She was worth everything, he thought as she came around his tongue, her cry echoing loudly in the empty classroom.

 


	7. Something In The Way

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 3 chapters in one day? Relax, I'm done for today. No more updates until next week.
> 
> This chapter is unbeta'ed and it shows.
> 
> Brace yourselves for sexytimes, fade-to-black on the sexytimes (yikes), fluff, violence and trauma. Yay.

**May 2013**

Derek has Stiles pressed against his bedroom door and he's panting into his mouth and what. He's kissing Stiles Stilinski in his childhood bedroom. This is insane. How did he get here?

Stiles has a hand fisted in his hair, the other wrapped around his bicep, tugging him as close as he can, as if Derek wasn't already trying to meld their bodies together. Derek isn't sure if he's freaking out or too elated to shut his brain down. Stiles nips at his bottom lip to bring him back to the task at hand. Speaking of hands, Derek dislodges his from Stiles' ass (how? What?) to unbutton his jeans, pulling the zipper down as slowly as he can bear to. Stiles gasps in his mouth, rocks forward into him.

Muted sounds from the party outside drift over to them from the open window. Cora shrieking with delight, Scott loudly chanting for the Macarena – dork – and Derek is sinking to his knees thinking "this is the most erotic thing that has ever happened to me". Stiles looks down at him, cheeks and chest flushed, mouth bitten red. He's so beautiful. Derek wishes he could stop thinking and shaking and falling apart.

::

Derek is lying on the ground trying to remember his name when Stiles extricates his long limbs from his, sits up and starts to button up his shirt. Derek makes a noise that could be defined as inquisitive, maybe, but is definitely closer to a dying whale. Stiles shoots him an amused look over his shoulder and bends over to peck Derek on the corner of the lips. He hovers over him, giving him this look that makes Derek stop breathing for a good minute.

"This isn't over", Stiles says in a low voice, gaze fixed on Derek's mouth. And then he's up and out the door. Derek lets his head thump against the floor, winded and lost and inexplicably, exceptionally happy.

::

**Spring 2010**

Derek tries to focus his eyes back on the screen. He needs to gather his thoughts, concentrate on writing the conclusion to this Economics paper he has due Friday. But behind his eyelids all he can see are the dark circles under Laura’s eyes, stained with soot.

The investigation had ruled out arson, settled on faulty electrical wiring.

The firefighters had gotten there quickly. Only Laura’s bedroom had been burned beyond repair.

They kept saying “it’s a miracle that the whole loft didn’t burn down”.

It’s a miracle.

It’s been a little over three weeks. Twenty three days. Derek cannot get the stench of smoke out of his nose. And the sound of Laura’s roar, trapped by mountain ash in the hellfire of her bedroom. They kept saying “it’s a miracle she got out of there unscathed.” It’s a miracle.

It wasn’t. The first firefighter who entered her room scrambled the mountain ash barrier unwittingly with his foot. Laura sprang free, right into Derek’s frantic arms. She passed out instantly. The burns on her arms and back took days to disappear. Derek had taken so much of her pain he felt woozy and shaken still.

The first few days they had holed up together in a hotel room, only getting out of their near-feral state to talk to the police. Their mom was in The Hague for a high-profile case with the International Criminal Court, and Derek had pleaded and pleaded and pleaded with Laura to wait until she got back to tell her. “Please, Laura, just wait. Later, Laur, I promise. Please.” As a last resort, he invoked the Blood Pact. Laura relented.

About six month into Melissa and Scott’s addition to the Hale dynasty, Laura and Derek had decided that being big sister and brother to two little siblings was a very serious responsibility. They solemnly swore to always protect their family and each other, and sealed their pact with blood. Or, they tried to. They kept healing faster than it took to smear their blood together. So they found a bottle of ketchup in the pantry and used that instead. Whatever. A Blood Pact is a Blood Pact.

Laura and Derek went through the motions in a daze for weeks. What finally sent Derek crashing back to reality was Kate’s mocking smirk, the light in her eyes that used to get him so riled up as she passed by him in the faculty hallways.

Derek couldn’t do anything. He couldn’t prove anything. Gerard had threatened Derek with expulsion the day after the fire, would he choose to divulge anything that had transpired between him and his daughter.

Laura had insisted that they tell the police what had really happened. Or transfer somewhere else. Or get their mother out there to handle everything. Or Derek go see a shrink. Or they take a break from classes for a while and go back home. Literally anything to get them out of their haze of pain and fear.

Derek had dug his heels in, too fragile and ashamed to face his family, or the truth of what he did. How stupid and dumb he’d been, falling into bed with a hunter. The guilt of putting his sister, his family in danger. So he curled up over himself to protect his most vulnerable bits, and Laura, ever the perfect big sister, curled up around him. They rented a shitty one bedroom near campus, salvaged the few belongings they could, and shut the rest of the world out.

Derek focused on his classes, kept his eyes on the ground in the hallways, tried to disappear into the walls. Laura focused on worrying about Derek.

Derek smashes his fingers on the keyboard in frustration. He keeps forgetting what he’s supposed to be writing. Something about risk and reward. He heaves a drawn-out sigh, looks around at the deserted library. A guy’s asleep two tables over, head pillowed on his arms. Figures, it’s about two in the morning. Derek reads over his last three paragraphs. It all seems like gibberish. He closes his computer a bit too forcefully, decides to go for a run to clear his head. Or wallow in guilt. Whichever allows him to collapse in exhausted slumber.

::

**May 2013**

Derek leans against the porch railing, half hidden in the shadows. He watches his mom, radiant and amused, being lead awkwardly around the dance floor by Stiles. He’s possibly the worst dancer Derek has ever seen, but the careful way he’s holding Talia’s waist, the easy conversation they share while dancing, the adoring looks he throws her when he attempts to spin her and she dissolves in peals of laughter… Derek’s thoroughly, irrevocably charmed.

He feels Melissa’s presence next to him just before she puts her hand on his shoulder, pressing her side to his. She watches them dance in silence, heartbeat slow, certain, constant. Derek is suddenly overcome with affection for her, for how happy and easy she made their life, how she made them all into a family. How he has never doubted the fierceness of her love for them. How grounded and secure she makes his mom. He reaches out, squeezes her hand on his shoulder.

She turns her head to look at him. “What’s on your mind, bunny?”

Derek lets out a soft snort in spite of himself. “I’m thinking I would really like this nickname to die a painful, violent death.”

Melissa smirks at him. Through her he sees Scott smirking smugly at Cora after snatching the last waffle from under her nose at breakfast. He sees her grinning from ear to ear and trying to hide it in Talia’s neck at Scott first lacrosse game as first string. He lets go of her hand, pulls her into a side hug.

Out in the garden, Stiles and Talia stopped dancing. They are holding on to each other still, heads bent together, in deep, quiet conversation, often interrupted by Talia’s quick bursts of laughter. Stiles can’t seem to stop smiling. The fairy lights hung around the dancefloor glint off Talia’s dress, making them look almost ethereal. Derek’s pretty sure this image is a direct echo from one of his dreams.

Further away, Scott is trying to lead Lydia in an intricate series of steps, something that looks like tango, maybe? But Lydia won’t let herself be lead. Scott mutters about how Allison would never make him go through this and Lydia slaps his shoulder, quotes an obnoxious line from Dirty Dancing at him. Laura and Cora are harassing a bartender into giving them a whole bottle of wolfsbane-spiked Champagne or three, which. Clearly isn’t their first. Derek is not dealing with those two tomorrow, werewolf healing or not.

The remaining guests are either swaying on the dancefloor or sitting around cake-laden tables, looking at the dancers, something wishful in their eyes. Derek can relate.

“Everyone seems happy, don’t they?” Melissa asks in an almost whisper.

Derek sighs. “Yeah, they do… it’s all to your credit, too. You sure know how to throw a party.”

Melissa scoffs. “Pshhh, I didn’t do a thing. It’s all your mother and Laura. You even helped. A little bit.”

“Pshhh, no”, Derek echoes. He turns towards her. “You happy?”

Melissa smiles at him, and it’s like looking at the sunrise: quietly hopeful, breathtaking. “I definitely am. What about you, though?” She casts a meaningful, pointed glance toward Stiles and Talia.

Derek’s eyes widen. He drops his voice, avoids her eyes. “I don’t… what do you mean?”

Melissa pinches his side, making Derek jump a little. “Oh, come on, kid. I have eyes. Also I’ve known you since you were eight. And I’ve known Stiles since he was five. And let me tell you, neither of you are particularly subtle.”

“I… what?” Derek says intelligently, looking around frantically for an escape route.

Melissa squeezes his hand, waits until he meets her eyes before saying softly. “That boy’s had a crush on you since he knew what crushes were. It’s the most obvious, adorable thing in the world.” She lets him digest this, seeks out his eyes once more. “I know you’re scared Derek. And that’s okay. But don’t let yourself go past something great because of it. You are braver than you think. I know that.”

Derek can barely register the quick hug she gives him over the rush in his ears. She lets go of him and steps away, gives him a small smile before going down the steps and toward Talia. Right then, Stiles looks up and locks eyes with Derek for a very long, intense second. His mouths quirks upward in a small smile, seemingly unsure but still willing to put himself out there. Derek tries to smile back but he’s not sure what his face is doing right now. He grips the railing tight and feels the edge of his claws leave a mark on the polished wood. The ground seems to have shifted under him. He can’t stop falling.

 


	8. Something's Coming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't thank margewearspants enough for being my cheerleader and my beta at the same time. You rock. You are why this fic got published. Thank you.
> 
> Here comes the angst. Also this is very Scott-heavy. I still don't know why exactly. It just happened.

**Spring 2010**

Derek lets himself into the tiny apartment slowly, sensitive ears ringing with Laura’s throaty, out of tune rendition of “I feel like a woman”. She’s dancing in the kitchen in an oversized t-shirt and shorts, making French toast. At 3pm on a Tuesday. Living the hard college life. She’s so into it that she startles when Derek enters the kitchen, drops the pan full of melted butter into the sink. She hisses as some of the butter splatters onto her arm. Derek can’t help but snort. His future alpha, ladies and gentleman. Laura gives him a half-hearted scowl. She comes over to rub a hand over his slumped shoulders. Like their mom would.

“What are you doing here? I thought you had Econ till 5?” She gives him a puzzled look, on the edge of worried. Derek sees this look more and more. He has a feeling she invented it for him.

He looks intently at the forgotten pan in the sink, melted butter dripping out steadily. “Not anymore. The teacher made me drop the class.” He fidgets a little, not sure how to go on. “I don’t have a passing grade... And no way to make up for it, apparently.”

The hand on Derek’s shoulder tightens instinctively. Derek fights the cringe. “Derek, fuck. Do you think Gerard—“

Derek is quick to cut her off, wanting to put as much distance between him and that name, those memories. “No, Laur. This is all me.” He closes his hands into fists, grinds his teeth against the acid taste of shame in his mouth.

Laura lets him go, starts pacing around the kitchen, hands buried in her hair, tugging at the strands. “Ok. It’s ok. You can focus on your design class and take Econ next semester. It’s fine.” She stops pacing, look at his stoic face with something like hope. “This might be good, actually.” Good for who, he wants to ask, to rile her up, to escape this painful conservation with a petty fight. But he stays silent, tries to keep his face neutral, to no avail.

She catches Derek’s cringing face. “What now?”

He hesitates, but what’s the point in avoiding this? It’s happening anyway. “They made me drop Design last week. They said I could take it in summer class, but they won’t pass me this semester.” He keeps his eyes on the ground, gets it all out in one breath, his face heating up in shame.

Derek has no more classes left to take this semester. He tried so hard to just  _ survive _ and study, and he couldn’t get over himself well enough to just do it. He has two months before summer classes start and nothing to do until then. Except be alone with his thoughts and avoid Laura’s worrying. He doesn’t know who he is anymore.

Laura’s eyes are boring a hole into his skull. She lets out a truly pitiful “oh, Der” and envelops him in a hug. He lets himself melt into her arms, just for a little while. He breathes her in, the comforting smell of pack, of family, of reassurance. No trace of smoke anywhere. They’ll be ok. As long as he has his family, he’ll be ok. Probably.

::

**May 2013**

Derek can barely stand on his feet, he’s so exhausted. He’s danced with his mom, then Melissa insisted he lead her across the dancefloor for a while. He’d been really careful about not stepping on her feet. Then Laura bugged him until he let her lead him in some sort of weird waltz that was more torture than dance. After that, Cora hopped on his back and demanded he carried her while he slow-danced with Scott. He vehemently declined at first but. Stiles was watching them, leaning on a pillar in the corner of the dancefloor, a smirk on his lips and his eyes liquid gold.

With Cora’s knee poking his kidney and Scott‘s feet stomping on his, his clammy hands around Derek’s waist, Derek felt Stiles’ gaze like a brand on him. When he finally got rid of his annoying siblings, he walked over to Stiles to wipe that smirk right off his face by all means necessary, but was intercepted by his mom, again. Then his aunt Stefania. Then a cousin he had never before seen in his life who wouldn’t look him in the eye the entire time they danced. After that he was too weak to escape Laura’s evil clutches yet again. He’s exhausted, and never ever wants to look at a dancefloor ever again.

The party’s winding down, Talia and Melissa upstairs getting changed for their getaway to the Secret Honeymoon Location. It’s Hawaii. Everyone knows. Nothing super secret or original about that. God, Derek is  _ tired _ .

Everyone’s aligning on the front porch and the driveway, Cora with a fifty-pound bag of rice on her shoulder, distributing it unevenly between shifters and humans. Derek isn’t positive she understands the rice isn’t meant to knock out the newlyweds, but it’s clear on her face this is her absolute favorite part of the wedding, so he lets her pour what must be about five pounds of rice into someone’s douchebag pork pie hat.

Talia and Melissa finally appear in the driveway and everyone erupts in cheers and yells. Derek winces, resists the urge to cover his ears. He hugs both his moms, kisses their cheeks, claps along with the others. He feels Laura’s grains of rice hitting his head with particular strength and precision, and he knows she’s aiming for his ears. He tries to move as stealthily as possible through the crowd until he’s next to her, dumps his handful of rice into the cleavage of her dress. She releases an entirely unladylike squawk. Derek grins at nothing, steps back to avoid her fist when she tries to swipe at him while holding on to her boobs.

The taxi driving his smiling, waving moms rounds their street corner and the cheers wind down. People start to head home. A few of them go back to the party though. Derek follows, too tired to keep the dopey, sleepy smile off his face. Scott bounds over to him, slips under his shoulder and wraps his arm around his waist. He gives Derek a beaming, mostly lucid grin. He must have burnt through most of the alcohol in his system. Derek has… not.

Cora and Laura are begging the DJ to put on something by the Spice Girls. Derek needs to steer clear of that, so he drags Scott by the shoulder over to the patio steps. Shrouded in darkness, they watch as their sisters, younger cousins and a few guests start an elaborate choreography on Wannabe. A laughing Cora is trying to get Stiles to follow her steps, to no avail. Stiles is twirling on himself, arms raised in the air, looking like a total loon. He’s so stupid. Derek  _ wants _ him.

Derek and Scott watch the party take a turn for the ridiculous for a while, huddled together on the steps. Derek knows his suit is rumpled beyond hope, but he can’t bring himself to care right now. He doesn’t remember ever feeling so… content. His moms on their honeymoon, his brother happy next to him, his sisters laughing on the dancefloor, Stiles trying to start a conga line with the few remaining dancers. Everything is perfect.

Which is precisely why everything falls to shit a few seconds later.

Scott starts squirming against him, turns to face him. “You look happy, bro.” 

Derek rolls his eyes, huffs. “Thank you, Captain Obvious.”

Scott honest to God  _ giggles _ , punches Derek in the shoulder. It stings. Scott must be drunker than Derek thought. “Shut  _ up _ , dick. I meant… I meant you look  _ different _ . More… settled. It’s, it’s good, dude. Makes me happy, too.” Scott grins at him again, slightly crooked. Idiot.

“Idiot”, Derek deadpans. Tries to. Is betrayed by the gigantic smirk that takes over his face. Scott snorts, turns back to face the dancefloor. He’s silent for a bit, then he knocks his shoulder into Derek’s, speaks in a low, introspective voice.

“M’pretty happy too, y’know. I’ve got you guys. ‘N Stiles, ‘n  _ Allison _ .” He sighs like a lovelorn puppy. Derek resists the urge to roll his eyes. “She’s so great, man. I love her so much. ‘N I haven’t told her yet, because it’s been, like, 3 months. But I do, I really do, I  _ love _ her.” Derek is… happy for his brother? But really, this is not his area of expertise. Feelings talks is Laura’s thing. Derek’s is. Huh. He’s not sure what his thing is. He’s sure it’s not this.

He brings up a hand around Scott’s shoulders, pats his back awkwardly. He looks straight ahead, catches a flash of Cora’s dress, reflecting the fairy lights hung off the pillars of the dancefloor. She’s slipping away from the party as discreetly as she can, letting herself be swallowed into the darkness of the Preserve. She’s pulling someone by the hand, grinning crookedly. Derek lets a bit of blue seep into his irises. He squints, makes out the features and perfect do of Lydia Martin. Who’s grinning back at Cora, their fingers tangled together. Uh. That’s a new development.

Derek narrows his eyes. He’s not sure Lydia Martin is good enough for Cora. But he fears the unbearable pain Cora would inflict on him should he even try to voice his opinion. And he’s got enough on his plate with one love-struck sibling at a time.

Scott’s still babbling away, talking about whatsherf – Allison’s dimples and the first time she smiled at him and their star-crossed romance and Derek is trying to find a way to shut him up without ruining the moment when Scott says: “but her dad he  _ hates _ me, you know? I don’t even know what I did! I was invited over at their house  _ once _ and Mr. Argent just, he wouldn’t even shake my ha—Derek, what?”

Derek’s ears are ringing. He hears Scott calling his name as if through glass. He feels warm liquid dripping down his thigh and looks down. He's sunk his claws through his suit pants, into his leg. He thinks to himself “this suit is definitely ruined now” but everything feels slow, like his brain is filled with molasses.  _ Argent. _ It can’t be. It can’t be. It’s too on the nose, it’s impossible, her family’s in Portland… but she mentioned her brother lives down south, didn’t she? He needs to… he needs to tell Scott, to warn him, he needs to.

Scott has a hand on his chest, pushing on his ribcage. He locks eyes with Derek, through his wolfed out haze, and tells him: “Breathe”. Derek does. He slumps forward, half into Scott, who’s looking at him with wide eyes, completely sobered up. Derek allows himself a second or two to just breathe, take in the comforting scent of his brother, of his house and his family around.

He catches a whiff of an inebriated Stiles, shuts his eyes against the images that assault his brain. Stiles’ long, slender fingers in his hair.  _ Her _ nails scratching his scalp, trying to leave marks on him. He needs to control his shift, needs to. He hears Laura’s laugh. Scott slightly off-kilter heartbeat. The uneven rhythm of Stiles’ steps on the dancefloor, twirling Derek’s nine-year-old niece around. They’re the only one left dancing. Derek forces the blue out of his eyes, feels the ridge in his brow recede. He feels more than hears Scott’s breath leaving him in a “whoosh”.

He grips Scott’s shoulder, turns him to face him completely. “What name did you say?”

Scott, startled, lets himself be shaken by the shoulders, but he snaps out of it, shrugs out of Derek’s grip. “What? Who?”

“The name… you said the name.  _ Argent _ ”, Derek spits it out like a particularly disgusting insult. Scott recoils as if he’s been slapped.

“Yes. My girlfriend? Allison Argent? I mentioned that before, no? What… Do you know her?”

Derek clenches his hands in fists, feels the prick of his claws puncturing his skin, focuses on the pain. “Scott. I don’t. This isn’t. What her dad’s name?” he asks, frantic.

“What? Chris. It’s Chris Argent. You know him?” Scott furrows his brows, peers at Derek like he’s not making any sense. Derek supposes he isn’t. None of this is making  _ sense _ .

“I… I know his sister. Scott, it’s.  _ God _ .” Derek hangs his head. He can’t  _ believe _ it. Scott is tugging on his sleeve like a four year old, waiting for Derek to explain what the fuck is going on with him. Derek forces the words out. “Chris Argent’s sister is Kate. Kate Argent. My.” Derek gulps, words leaving him, helpless and bare.

Scott’s eyes widen with understanding. He grabs Derek’s forearms gently, brings him close so they can look each other in the eye. “Derek, are you sure?”

“N, no. I don’t”, he mumbles.

Scott looks over to the side, lost in thought, trying to make sense of the puzzle by himself. “You know, she mentioned her aunt Kate a few times. I just never made… I mean how could I have… I’m sorry, Derek.”

Derek startles. “Why would you? It’s not. It’s not your fault, at all. Scott, it’s. This is  _ so _ fucked up.” Scott looks at him, nods emphatically.

They stay there, staring at each other, hearts tap dancing in their chests, for what feels like hours. Scott huffs out a sigh, letting go of Derek, back thumping against the railing of the patio.  “ _ Fuck _ .”

Derek looks out at the party. Laura is sitting at a table with Stiles and the Sheriff, seemingly immersed in conversation, but Derek can feel the tension in her, how she’s tuned into what’s happening with them right now.

The DJ’s playing old slow dances from the 80’s but the dancefloor is deserted, aunts slumped in chairs around tables, kids and teenagers alike dead to the world in their lap. Cora’s nowhere in sight and outside hearing range, thank God. Derek’s thankful for Scott’s close proximity as images of her start flashing through his mind now that the initial shock is wearing off: her smile, wild and dangerous, her hand on his arm that felt like a leash, her voice in his ear murmuring insults and threats as if they were tender words.

Scott taps on Derek's hand awkwardly. "Would it be okay if I... told Allison?"

Derek sighs. He's not thrilled with the idea. "Yeah... I mean if it helps explaining why you guys are breaking up, I--"

Scott's on his feet immediately, right in Derek's face. "Breaking up?! What the hell, Derek!"

Derek stutters, looks up at Scott, baffled. "I... I mean... you can't keep dating her. She's. Scott, she might be dangerous."

Scott's eyes are flashing, and he's talking through his fangs. "You don't even know her! Just because her aunt's a psycho--"

"Her family", Derek interrupts harshly. "Her dad... her dad was the same." He lets his tone soften, placating. "It's a family of psychos, of, of  _ hunters _ , Scott you can't..."

With a snarl, Scott pounces on Derek. He gets a few good slashes in before Laura's there, restraining Scott as he fights against her hold. "Allison isn't like that! Don't fucking insult the woman I love", he yells at his brother.

Derek, still smarting from the quickly healing slashes, raw from bringing the memories of Kate too close to the surface, can't help but spit: "You're not in love, Scott! You're eighteen years old. What the hell do you know about love?"

"A hell of a lot more than you!" He still bucking against Laura's firm hold on him, trying to get to Derek, as silence rings around them. The aunts are still at their table, looking on with a mix of droopy exhaustion and interest. Stiles is close, though. He approaches Laura carefully, puts a hand on Scott's shoulder. Scott stops thrashing immediately, governed by the instinct to protect the human. Stiles' eyes are fixed, intent, on Derek. God knows what there is to see on his face right now. He's hurt , confused. Angry and tired. So tired.

Scott huffs, back to his human form. He shrugs both Laura and Stiles off. Throws Derek a last, venomous look and stalks toward the preserve without another word. They all look at him go for a while. Then Laura turns back on Derek, who's still sitting on the floor, bewildered.

"What the hell was that?"


	9. Something To Think About

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in one day! And only two more to go!
> 
> This is the Confrontation Chapter (dun dun duuuun).   
> A lot of Scott in this one too. Eh.
> 
> THANK YOU margewearspants for being soooo awesome and helpful and not terrible. You're an ok human being, I guess.

**March 2011**

Derek slams the door to his apartment closed, slumps against it. He’s sweating, pulse racing, vision blurry at the edges. His breathing isn’t– right. He can’t…. his knees buckle under his weight and he’s sinking to the ground, sliding against the door. He doesn’t know how he got home. He was on campus, getting coffee after a class. He thought he saw…

Derek rubs a shaking hand over his face. He thought her saw her. His blood ran cold, sluggish in his veins. But she laughed and turned her head and it wasn’t her. The wrong laugh. The wrong scent. The wrong heartbeat. It wasn’t her but it didn’t stop hurting. There was a part of him that wanted it to be her and he hated himself because he couldn’t hate her. He thinks he ran home.

Derek concentrates on his breathing. He closes his eyes and just keeps breathing. As long as he breathes, it’ll be fine. It’ll be fine.

Laura finds him in the hall when she comes back from her classes. She sinks down next to him, envelops him in a hug, pets his hair. He lets her pull him up, park him on the couch with a blanket, and feed him soup like he’s a four year old with the sniffles. He lets himself be babied and he turns off his brain. He stops thinking. Because once he starts he knows the wave of hatred and fear will engulf him. Hatred for her, hatred for himself, for his damn  _ feelings _ , for making Laura take care of him, for not being able to deal. To heal.

At some point he falls asleep with his head on Laura’s lap. When he wakes up, he’s alone on the couch. The apartment is empty, dark. Derek is alone.

Derek feels the loneliness like a physical pain, like a weight in his stomach, like a vice against his lungs. He can feel it pulling and pushing at him. He doesn’t know what to do to make it go away. He wants… he wants Laura. And Cora and Scott and his moms. He wants his family. He wants to go home. Then maybe he’ll be okay. 

::

**May 2013**

Derek finds Scott in a clearing about three miles from the house. He’s pacing. He’s pissed. 

Derek heaves a drawn-out sigh through his nose. Here we go.

Laura talked to him in a low, clipped tone that was trying for understanding but was mostly, quietly furious. Some shpiel about letting people make their own choices and mistakes and history not necessarily repeating itself and blah blah blah. Derek had felt like an ass the whole time through, hunched over himself, wiping blood away from his face and hurt beyond reason. Stiles was still looking at him. He felt his gaze on him like a weight. He needed to find Scott.

So here he is. In the middle of the forest, trying to apologize to his idiot brother but really, really not wanting to. He wonders if he could get away with just picking him up and carrying him around for a bit. If reverting to their old selves could do the trick. Scott has his back to him, carving what seems like a thick line around a tree with his claws. He makes no move to turn around, even though his neck tenses up, clearly aware of his brother’s presence. So… Derek will have to use his words. Dammit.

“I’m sorry.” There. Good start.

Scott huffs mockingly. He starts carving a thinner line below the thick one.

Derek weighs the pros and cons of running away. He tries again. “I really am, Scott. I just… I don’t want you to… go through what I had to go through, I guess.”

That earns him a growl. “And what, you think I’m stupid? You don’t think that, knowing what I know, seeing you go through all that pain, I would be really careful about the whole thing?” Scott lets Derek’s guilty silence do the talking for both of them. He shrugs. “Thanks a lot, Der, for all your trust. Some brother you are.”

That stings much more than the claw slashes from earlier. But Derek supposes he probably deserves it. Maybe. “I trust you, Scott. I just… I can’t help it.” Pulling teeth is probably less painful than this. Not that he would know, but. “She really screwed with me.”

Scott finally turns toward him, his posture still defensive. “I know that, Derek. But how can I help you through it, if you won’t talk about it? I’m here for you, I’ve  _ been _ here for you, we all have. And you just… you just shut down, and… and you won’t let go and… I don’t know what to do to help you, Der.” Derek feels his annoyance recede to the back of his mind. Instead there’s shame, fear. Guilt. Scott goes on with a renewed aggression. “But letting you butt into my relationship with my  _ girlfriend _ ? That is not happening.”

Derek trains his eyes on the floor, grinds his teeth. Silence stretches between them. Derek wants to say something. Anything. He doesn’t want Scott to leave, to give up on him, but he doesn’t… Scott’s eyes bore into him, but he makes no move to keep talking or leave. He waits Derek out.

Derek huffs, looks at the trees surrounding them, for something to do. “You remember this place? Two years ago, you had— you had your last asthma attack. Right here. It was… terrifying. I didn’t know what to do, I was scared. That I would lose you, that I couldn’t save… You’re my brother.” He’s not sure exactly where he’s going with this, but now that he’s started saying words, he can’t make himself shut up. They spill out of him and into the air. He can’t take them back. “I wanted to save you then, to protect you, more than anything else. And now… now I want to protect you, too. From her. From what she did to me. From what she could have done to our family. It’s not. It’s not easy, to explain. It’s… shameful. I don’t. I never want you to see that part of me, Scott. I never— I never want anybody to see it.”

Scott looks at him with steel in his gaze. It throws Derek off. Last time he saw Scott so determined, he was asking for the bite. “I’m asking you to trust me with this. Like I trust you, with Stiles.”

Derek physically recoils from the words before he can stop himself, surprised and terrified that Scott will think he broke some sort of bro code or something. He goes for broke. “I… I don’t know what—“

Scott explodes, suddenly right in his face. “Oh come on! You think I don’t know how my best friend feels? You think I’m completely oblivious? I learned what arousal smelled like that summer I got the bite by being around you and Stiles. It was  _ gross _ . And it still is!”

Derek has his eyes shut. He’s wondering if he could maybe possibly die of mortification. Scott’s breathing roughly, his harsh breaths washing over Derek’s face. When he speaks again, his tone is calmer, coaxing Derek out of his spiral of shame. “Derek. I trust you. I trust you, and I trust him with you too. But you will never make it work with him if you keep holding on to what happened with— with her. He’s not her, he’s not out to hurt you, you know that. You can’t constantly compare him to her, that’s not fair.”

Derek squints one eye open, still frozen in place. Scott’s whole body language is pure empathy, feeding off of what Derek’s throwing around. He makes himself relax, unclenches his fists, lowers his shoulders from around his ears. He can’t make his eyes stop glowing blue yet, but Scott’s eyes only glow golden in response.

“You can trust him. You need to trust him. It’s more than a feeling, you know? It’s a decision, a leap of faith. You won’t be able to make that leap if you’re dragging Kate behind like a dead weight. And you need to trust me with this, too”, Scott goes on, using his momentum. “I will be careful with Allison’s family, but Derek, I know her. I trust her. She won’t hurt me, or us. And the second her aunt tries to approach her we’re on a plane home.” He reaches for Derek’s hand, squeezes with werewolf strength. Derek hears bones creaking. “And when Allison’s here visiting I’ll give you blanket permission to do the intimidating thing with the hovering and the creepy staring. It’s your right as an overprotective big brother. Deal?”

Derek lets out a long, long breath, ridding his lungs of all the air left in them. He looks up at the sky through the trees, feels for the heartbeats closer to him. Scott, steady, still a bit elevated from the earlier outburst. Laura, all the way back to the house, calm and reassuring, muffled by the forest between them. Stiles, his usual pitter-patter of a heartbeat, pacing in the backyard by the patio. Derek’s not sure if he can do this. But he’d do anything for his brother, for his family. For Stiles, too, he admits to himself. So he will try, with everything he has.

“I’ll try.”

Scott’s hugging him fiercely even before he’s finished talking. “Yeah you will!” he crows around a grin. What a goddam puppy.

Derek tries to smile in return but. “Scott, you’re. You’re choking me”, he says around a cough. 

He feels Scott’s grin get wider as his grip gets tighter. “Eh, you’ll deal.”

Derek does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do think Scott's being a dickhead for most of this chapter (or this entire story), but then, so is Derek. People are flawed, and selfish. They also make promises they can't keep. Don't come yell at me for it.


	10. Something About You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU marge. THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU. 
> 
> This is It. Ugh.

**Summer 2011**

The whole family gathers around the dining table for one last breakfast before Derek and Laura hit the road. It’s quieter than usual. Cora and Scott are still smarting from the fight they had the night before. Something about who won their last lacrosse game. Derek doesn’t want to know.

Derek frowns in his cereal. This is so far removed from the family he has been part of this summer. Laura is concentrating all her energy on pretending she’s not nervous about grad school. Talia and Melissa are oblivious, lost in their own private world, which. Derek’s happy for his moms, but shouldn’t the honeymoon phase have dissipated already? It’s kinda gross.

Scott’s head perks up comically when he hears the Jeep’s raucous engine, a few seconds before the rest of them do. A big smile takes over his brother's features, yesterday's troubles forgotten. If he had a tail, it'd be wagging furiously.

Derek buries his head in his cereal bowl. He’d been kept awake by his thoughts late into the night. He is dreading going back to the campus, seeing the places he used to take her, the deserted classrooms where they'd kissed. He dreads hearing her laugh echo through the halls. He knows, now, that he can face it. Her. He just wishes he wasn't haunted by the memories.

But his mind kept going back to that night under the stars. He couldn't help but wonder, how did Stiles know all these things about constellations? Why was he so… non-fidgety when he was explaining them to Derek? How could someone so annoying look so peaceful and sweet when they were asleep? Stiles was a puzzle, and Derek couldn’t make the pieces fit. Derek had finally dozed off around 3am, exhausted by the whirring of his own brain.

By the time Stiles parks the Jeep in the driveway, the whole family is aware of him. The tension-filled breakfast seems lighthearted now, buzzing with anticipatory energy, a solid eighty percent of which is radiating off of Scott. Stiles bursts into the dining room and Scott is on him instantly, smothering him with hugs. Stiles laughs, pats his friend on the back. He starts to whine at Scott to let him go after a few more seconds. Melissa puts out a plate for him. And just like that everyone is talking over each other, trading jokes and fighting over the last of the bacon.

Laura welcomes Stiles as the ideal outlet for her avoidance. She grills him on his college applications and Stiles evades the questions by stuffing his mouth as full as humanly possible. It’s gross. Derek doesn’t know why he’s even looking. He should stop. Now.

When breakfast is over, they load Derek’s bag and Laura’s many suitcases in the car. They get hugs and kisses from their moms. Then Cora and Scott tackle them to the floor and pile on top of them like literal puppies. It’s awful, Derek hates it. That’s obviously why he’s squeezing Cora within an inch of her life, duh.

Laura gets up first, laughing. She pulls a hovering Stiles into a hug, whispering profanities in his ear. Red spots appear on Stiles’ cheeks and down his throat. Derek must have something in his eyes because he can’t blink away.

Derek disentangles himself from his brother and sister, who keep scuffling on the floor, playing away their pent-up nerves from the day before. Stiles pulls off Laura, clears his throat. He makes eye contact with Derek, and walks closer to him.

“Hey,” Stiles says, voice low. “You ready to go?”

Derek’s tongue tied, for some reason. He clears his throat. “Y… yes.”

Stiles smiles at him, drops his eyes. “I have something for you.” Derek hasn’t found his voice yet, so he raises his eyebrows, hoping it conveys how not affected he is by Stiles. Stiles chuckles, mutters something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like “eyebrows of death”, but that can’t be right. He reaches for his back pocket, pulls out a piece of paper, holds it in front of him. He shakes it a little bit when Derek makes no move to take it. Derek slowly reaches for it, takes it carefully. At first glance it doesn’t seem to be explosive, but you never know.

Stiles shuffles on his feet, rocks forward a little bit. “Open it.” Derek does. The piece of paper is a map of the constellations they saw on the roof that night. It looks hand drawn. Stiles fidgets until Derek raises his head to look at him. “So that you don’t embarrass yourself with your ignorance next time you bring someone up on the roof to watch the stars.” He adds a weak chuckle a fraction of a second too late.

Derek will probably never find his voice again. He looks back at the map. Stiles fidgets some more, brings a hesitant hand up to pat at Derek’s shoulder awkwardly. That small, private smile is back on his face and Derek… Derek is feeling the ground shift beneath him. Stiles finally, mercifully breaks eye contact, goes running towards Scott and Cora, dives into the puppy pile, earning a yelp from Scott.

Derek stares at the piece of paper he’s still holding. Uh.

::

**May 2013**

Derek and Scott get back to the house, shoving each other playfully just so they stop hugging like fools. The backyard is dark. So is the house. The guests have left. Derek can hear Laura getting reading for bed slash eavesdropping in her room. Cora is still nowhere in sight or hearing range, which Derek guesses is good for his mental health. The only person remaining is Stiles, eyeing them wearily from the patio steps, hands in his pockets. He’s got this rumpled look about him. He’s still in his suit but missing his jacket, revealing a tight fitting white shirt, sleeves rolled up on surprisingly thick, corded forearms, hugging broad shoulder Derek remembers biting on earlier. Scott gives him a disgusted look but Derek can’t muster up the strength to feel sheepish about broadcasting his attraction. Stiles is the sexiest thing Derek has ever seen, Scott can deal.

Scott shoves Derek’s shoulder one last time, throwing a grin his way. He bounds toward Stiles, envelops him in a hug. They stay like that until Derek reluctantly catches up with them. When they break apart, they nod at each other wordlessly. Finally, Scott claps Stiles’ shoulder, gives Derek a serious don’t-fuck-this-up-or-else look, and disappears into the house.

Derek and Stiles are alone, enveloped in darkness. Derek finally feels how truly tired he is. He’s exhausted from the party and the emotional rollercoaster of the day and Stiles and fighting with Scott again. He feels raw. His thoughts and feelings are a mess. Close proximity with Stiles makes him lightheaded and nervous. Jittery and exhilarated. He can barely stand up and keep his eyes open. He wishes for a shower and a blanket and a Pirates of the Caribbean marathon, but there’s nowhere he’d rather be right now than right here facing Stiles, who’s looking at him with a quietly hopeful look and a barely sarcastic smirk on his face, like he can’t help himself.

“So. Good talk?” Stiles asks, looking at Derek through his lashes. That’s a dirty, dirty trick.

Derek huffs to give himself time to find words. “Yeah, something like that.” Silence stretches between them.

“So”, Stiles says, the picture of feigned nonchalance. Like Derek can’t smell his nerves, can’t see the tension running through his spine. It puts Derek on edge.

“So?” he echoes, like a three-year-old.

Stiles takes a step forward, rocks back on his heels, flails his arms in a blur of movement. “We gotta figure out what comes after ’so’, dude. You might not have noticed but I’m not very good with silences.”

He’s still flailing his arms around so Derek grabs his wrists, just so he doesn’t slap himself in the face or something. It’s just good safety practices, is all. Suddenly Stiles is much closer, blinking at him with his mouth parted mid-word and Derek looks down at his lips. He really shouldn’t have because now he can’t look away. Dammit.

They’re like magnets, inching closer until their lips meet and then it’s all need. Derek is diving into the kiss while Stiles holds onto his shoulders as if he can’t stand upright on his own. After a few seconds or minutes or lifetimes, Stiles wrenches away from the kiss, leaving Derek bereft and completely dazed.

Stiles is pacing and flailing again. Derek hasn’t gotten his blood to stop pounding in his ears yet. “We’ve already established we’re very compatible on the” – more hand-flailing in Derek’s direction – “physical front. Great, ten out of ten, would kiss again.” Derek can’t help his snort, but Stiles shoots him a pained look. “I need more, Derek, I need words. I know I was trying to play it cool before, in your bedroom, but… I’m not. Cool. I need…”

He’s stopped pacing. He’s come within reach of Derek again, looking at him with something akin to genuine distress. Derek wants to soothe him. It’s the easiest thing to lift his hands, let them fit on Stiles’ hips, bring him closer.

Stiles circles Derek’s wrists with his long fingers. His grip is loose, momentarily calmed down. He catches Derek’s eyes in a serious look. “Derek, come on, big guy. Words, I know you can utter them. Usually under duress, but still.” His gaze is probing, desperation underlying.

Derek flexes his hands on Stiles’ hips. He wants to drag him into his body, but Stiles is still looking at him like he might break if Derek doesn’t speak. Derek’s tongue is lead in his mouth. His head is empty. He scrambles for something to say. Something, anything, a statement, a feeling, a riddle, a song lyric, that line in Star Wars with Luke and his dad or whatever, but nothing comes. Nothing. He flexes his hands again, wants to get Stiles’ crestfallen look off his face more than anything, as Stiles steps out of his grip, starts backing away from Derek slowly.

Stiles swallows heavily, eyes trained on the floor. Derek wants to roar. Stiles huffs a wet sort of laugh, doesn’t meet Derek’s eyes. “I’m sorry, Derek. This was a mistake, I guess. I mean, who gets their first crush, right? It’s the wedding, the happiness, everyone’s emotions running high, we— I got carried away. I’m sorry. I’m gonna…” He gestures behind himself, starts turning away. Stiles is. What. No. Stiles is and Derek hasn’t. He can’t.

He hears himself blurt it out and he can’t even process what exactly is happening but it doesn’t matter because this is the truest thing he has to say.

“I love you.” 

Stiles is frozen mid-step, looking at him like he has grown another head. It’s a serious possibility at this point. Derek goes on anyway. “I’m in love with you, and… I’m scared.” One breath, two breaths. “I’ve never really loved anyone before, I’m scared I’m going to fuck it up.” He takes a step toward Stiles on autopilot, but it seems his mouth is not done having its moment in the spotlight, so it keeps going of its own volition. Derek would consider it a betrayal of the highest order if it wasn’t responsible for the possibly constipated, possibly hopeful look on Stiles’ face.

“I’m… I’m scared of how much I care about you. I want– I want to be with you. You make stuff brighter, you- you talk all the time and you wind me up for fun but... I’m clearly insane because I like that about you. And I trust you. I’m scared you won’t want me around, or you might never feel that way about me, or I will do something to make you hate me.” Derek swallows. “I’m scared that I’m just a person to you, not  _ the _ person.”

His throat is closing in on itself but he needs to get the words out. All of them. The last of the poison. “I’m a mess, Stiles. You can’t possibly want that. You deserve so much more than that. But I love you, anyway.”

Stiles hasn’t moved the entire time Derek’s been talking. He’s aware that it has been a long time. His mouth thankfully shuts itself. He’s stuck looking at Stiles like he’s holding the knife he could stab Derek with. But then Stiles is taking a step toward him and beaming and “Derek, fuck. You’re so stupid.”

Derek gapes. He just declared his undying love in what he’s pretty sure was a quite romantic manner (he’ll have to check with Laura) and Stiles just insulted him. “Wha—“

Stiles  _ pounces _ . Derek catches him around the waist, nearly avoiding getting knocked to the ground. Stiles kisses him within an inch of his life. When they come up for air, Stiles smiles against Derek’s lips, nips at his mouth like he can’t help himself, a hand fisted in Derek’s dress shirt. “So, you’re going to be my boyfriend or what?” he murmurs, eyes closed, forehead against Derek’s.

Derek’s knees might just give out right then and there. He leans back, waits until Stiles opens his eyes. Derek takes him in, all of him: disheveled suit, love bites blooming under the collar of his shirt, sex hair and bright eyes. He loves him. “Yes. Yes I will.” He feels his mouth pull up on his own accord and Stiles beams back at him. This is. This is good.


	11. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go. Last chapter. :)
> 
> Thank you for sticking with my story til the end. I hope you liked it.  
> Thank you @margewearspants for EVERYTHING!
> 
> This is pure fluff. Yay!

**September 16th 2013**

Scott opens the door to his apartment and immediately tries to gouge his eyes out.

“Noooo !” he yells, sinking to his knees.

Derek snorts into Stiles’ shoulder. Dramatic little shit. “’S your own fault for not using your senses, doofus.”

Stiles cackles, looks down at Derek, eyes liquid with amusement and something that looks terribly like fondness. “Doofus? Really? How old are you?”

Derek has no good retort to that so he shuts Stiles up with a kiss or seven.

Scott whines from the floor. “Seriously guys? We said no naked times in the common rooms!” Stiles shucks a cushion in his general direction without taking his face off Derek’s. He misses by about a mile. Derek finds that charming, for some reason. He blames it on the afterglow of the truly mind-blowing orgasm he just had.

Scott is crawling on the floor toward his room, eyes scrunched closed, a hand over his nose and mouth. Derek would be offended if he wasn’t so happy. Also he’s had to hear his brother have loud, weird sex with Allison a few too many times by now to actually care about Scott’s antics.

Stiles is, on the other hand, less and less amused. “Bro, seriously, stop it. Stop it. We’re sorry, dude, c’mon.” He hugs Derek closer to him, using him as a blanket to cover his own nudity. Derek is not inconvenienced in the slightest. He noses along Stiles’ collarbone, tastes the freckles there.

He’s brought back to the situation at hand by Scott’s whining ratcheting up a notch. He’s pointing at Derek, yelling “He’s not sorry at all!” Derek look at him, raises an eyebrow. He’s not.

Derek had been away in Portland for about two weeks, packing up his stuff, helping Laura vet potential roommates. She really hit it off with a kitsune who’s getting her masters in electrical engineering, Kira. Derek liked her, too. He’s pretty sure Laura’s going to be fine. He’s crashing on Scott and Stiles’ couch until he finds his own place. And by couch, he means Stiles’ bed. He has a week and a half before his classes start, but Scott and Stiles started about a month ago. Between his classes and his job at the student union, Stiles hasn’t been home a lot. Derek hasn’t gotten enough of him. He needs to catch up. His brother should understand that.

“You couldn’t refrain yourself? Even on my birthday?!”

Derek chooses silence once again because the answer to that question is obvious. Scott seems to finally choose righteous anger and indignation over embarrassment. He springs to his feet, throws a glare their way and storms out with a shout of “you two are the WORST!”

Stiles giggles into Derek’s hair, calls out a “happy birthday bro!” toward the door. His only response is the front door banging ominously. Derek heaves a long, blissed out sigh, settles his body more heavily against Stiles’. Kisses the arch of his brow, the tip of his nose, the point of his chin. Stiles’ hand travels up and down his back, tickles at his side, grabs at the ball of his shoulder. There might be a world outside this but Derek doesn’t remember what it is, what is looks like. He feels like his body is floating away but then Stiles looks at him and he’s grounded to the spot, lost in the amber of his eyes, more love there than he ever thought he deserved.

Scott ruins the moment, as usual. Derek considers asking his mom to divorce Melissa and ban Scott from the pack, for a second or two. A good minute. Whatever. He bursts out into the apartment once again, his hand over his eyes, yells “party down at the bar in 20! Wear clothes, you disgusting traitors!” and disappears as fast as he got in. Again.

Derek drops his head on Stiles shoulder, groans. Stiles is shaking with barely contained laughter. He threads his fingers into Derek’s hair, murmurs: “come on, big guy. As much as I hate to say this, we should get dressed up.” Derek groans louder, buries his face deeper into Stiles’ neck, mouths at his pulse point. “Der, ah, come on. Let’s go. Celebrate your brother’s birthday.”

“’S not my brother, ‘s _your_ best friend.”

Stiles chuckles, and it reverberates through his whole body, into Derek’s. “Sure he is. And without him, we might have never met.”

Derek pauses, lifts his head. He considers that for a moment while tracing the moles on Stiles’ cheek with his fingers. “True.”

Stiles takes advantage of Derek’s approval to push him off him gently, stands up. “Come on. Let’s go celebrate the puppy’s birthday.”

Derek smiles up at him, laces their fingers together. Lets Stiles lead him toward his bedroom and their clothes.

Maybe they get distracted for a minute or twenty as they dress up. Whatever. It’s worth Scott’s wrath. It’s worth everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE END MOTHERFUCKERS
> 
> Come say hi on the [tumbles](http://www.shitfckhead.tumblr.com).


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